When Up Becomes Down
by HiddenAllusion
Summary: Response to the Cold Shoulder Challenge: Hermione and Snape find themselves in a situation that they never would have dreamt possible. When they have only themselves to rely on, things change. AU since HBP. Work in Progress
1. Chapter One

**Disclaimer: I'm only writing this once, as I obviously don't own anything mentioned in here. Even the idea belongs to someone else. sigh**

**A/N This is my first challenge response fic, and only my second fic of this pairing, so please tell me what you think and how I can improve. I've tried to keep as true to the characters as possible, so I hope that part's okay. As to the grammar… well, I'm sorry for any typos there are. I don't have a beta for this fic (my betas for other pairings don't like HG/SS! Blasphemers!) and I can't catch all of them, no matter how hard I try. The challenge is the 'Cold Shoulder' challenge, and it's posted on WIKTT… and that's about it. R/R!**

**Edit: I've made a couple of minor changes, including Hermione's middle name, which is Jane. Thanks to Emma, for pointing it out to me.**

Hermione Granger had never seen Albus Dumbledore look so serious. That fact was beginning to worry her, because she had an appointment in his office in ten minutes time, for a reason that was completely unknown to her. She hadn't broken any rules that she knew of so far this year. In fact, Hermione's final year at Hogwarts was proceeding rather well. She was Head Girl, and had done a great deal of work with Draco Malfoy who had, surprisingly enough, been selected for Head Boy. Inter-house co-operation had never been this smooth between the Gryffindors and the Slytherins. Draco Malfoy was actually being polite. And, to top everything off, Hermione had just finished two separate projects that would, most probably, put her in the history books. They would also almost definitely make her extremely wealthy.

The first was a charm that she had constructed to block out Dementors' emotional draining completely for up to an hour. While prisoners would not be able to make use of this (because they did not have wands), it would make prison inspections much easier and would have considerable effect in fighting off Dementors recruited and sent into battle by Voldemort.

The second was a combination potion-charm. The would-be caster's wand had to be bathed in a solution of Hermione's invention for exactly two minutes and seventeen seconds while the owner of the wand recited an incantation. Once that was done, Hermione's potion-charm would be simply activated any time the wand's owner said 'asparagus' with the wand in a casting position. The charm, called the Essence charm, revealed each and every spell that had affected an object or person, and who had cast each spell.

Ron tapped Hermione on the shoulder, bringing her out of her thoughts. "Your meeting's in five minutes, you know. Dumbledore's gone already." Hermione glanced up at the high table. Dumbledore's seat was empty. So was Snape's.

"Thanks, Ron," she said gratefully. "See you in a bit."

Ron and Harry waved goodbye and then turned back to whatever conversation they had been having before Ron had reminded Hermione to leave. She smiled wryly, and then walked briskly to Dumbledore's office. As Head Girl, she already knew the password, and was able to make it there on time.

Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, looking even more sombre than he had when he was in the Great Hall. Snape was sitting in one of the armchairs facing the desk. His back was rigid, and his jaw was clenched. He made no response to Hermione's soft "Good morning, professors."

The headmaster smiled tiredly at her greeting. "Good morning, Miss Granger. Sit, please." She sat down, becoming even more worried. "The news I have for you, Miss Granger, is not good news. I'm afraid I won't beat around the bush here. The work you've done recently in the invention of your charms is very good. So good, in fact, that Voldemort has heard of them and wants to know the secret of your Essence charm. Of course, you've patented it."

Hermione swallowed. Dumbledore had not finished. "With the magical patent, Voldemort cannot look up your potion-charm in the archives. There is no other copy, and you are the only person with the power and knowledge to give access to your Essence charm to Voldemort."

Hermione thought about this for only a second before she said, "So he's after me."

"I'm afraid that's the case."

This didn't worry Hermione as much as it probably should have. "Sir, he's already after me. I'm one of Harry's best friends."

"You've become as important as Potter in Voldemort's eyes, now," Snape informed her coolly. "I assume the wonder-boy has told you all about my role."

"I know you used to spy for Voldemort, sir," she said carefully, suppressing her irritation at his name for Harry.

"I still do… or did, until last night. I told Voldemort I would bring you to him under Imperius today," he informed her. "It will become evident by this evening that I have not done so, and our lives will be in even greater peril."

"You're both wanted by Voldemort," Dumbledore cut in gently. "And Professor Snape believes that Voldemort's willing to risk everything in order to capture you and your secret. With the Essence charm, Voldemort will potentially be able to see through invisibility cloaks, and recognise all of the few spies we have planted with him; in short, he will become very close to unstoppable."

"He's going to attack Hogwarts?" Hermione asked, in a voice that was calm and level. She wasn't quite sure where the voice came from. Her world had just been turned upside-down. There was _nowhere_ safer than Hogwarts.

"Hermione, it's possible. Very possible." The headmaster's eyes were full of concern and worry. "The risk of having you and Professor Snape stay here is far too great. I have decided that it will be safest to remove the two of you from the school."

"You're… expelling me?" Hermione's voice certainly reflected her feelings now. It was high, loud, and disbelieving. She was in shock. "But…"

"No, I'm not expelling you," Dumbledore reassured her quickly. "Just moving you temporarily."

"What the headmaster is trying to _say_," Snape said coldly, his voice full of displeasure, "is that he intends to move both of us to a two-bedroomed house in the middle of nowhere, have each of us cast the Fidelius on the other, and then keep us there until Voldemort's defeat or your graduation."

The headmaster rolled his eyes. "That _is_ what I had in mind," he admitted. "Although I had originally planned on phrasing my intentions differently. How do you feel about it, Hermione?"

_What a stupid question_, she thought. "It's… fine, professor," she lied, smiling weakly.

"Good, good." His smile looked more genuine now. "In that case, why don't you two run along and pack your trunks? Be back here at eleven, please." Snape scowled at Dumbledore as Hermione scowled at her feet. They both rose, and Snape swept through the door ahead of Hermione. She rolled her eyes and glared at the hem of his robes. Damn it _all_.

"Five points from Gryffindor," Snape said without even turning around. "Disrespect." With that, he disappeared down a stairway that led to the dungeons. She swore aloud this time, and then continued on her way to Gryffindor tower. She had two hours to pack, explain, and say goodbye. Hermione was beginning to hold Snape's view of the headmaster. _Damn_ him.

By the time Hermione reached Gryffindor Tower, she realised just how short time was. Thankful that she had her own room (as Head Girl, it was one of the privileges) so that she need not explain her actions to inquisitive roommates, Hermione began packing her things. Clothes went right at the bottom, textbooks and other books on top, then quills and parchment, and then odds and ends. It only took an hour.

She shrunk her trunk and put it into her purse along with her money. Now it was time to face the boys. Taking a last look around her now-bare room, she left, resetting the password to "rosemary" as was custom when a Head Girl left permanently. Somehow, Hermione didn't think she would be coming back to Hogwarts as Head Girl, if she returned at all.

At the bottom of the staircase, Harry and Ron were playing chess. At least, they were playing chess while they waited for Hermione to emerge and tell them what the meeting had been about, because the second she appeared they immediately packed up the set, ignoring the complaints of the pieces.

"What was it?" Ron asked. "What did Dumbledore say?"

"Hermione, are you okay?" was Harry's more thought-out response. No doubt he'd noticed how pale she was. "What's wrong?"

Hermione sat down facing the boys. "You know those charms I invented?" she asked.

"Yeah." Ron pulled a face. "Put the rest of us to shame with our inflection variations."

"What I'm _trying_ to say," Hermione continued, "is that Dumbledore wanted to talk about them. Apparently, Voldemort wants the secret of the Essence Charm."

"He can't get that from the ministry," Ron said promptly. "You've got the patent, right? You can only give it to people you want to."

"Yes," Hermione said wryly. "So Voldemort's after me."

"Shit," Harry said softly. "Well, he's after me too, and Dumbledore's not done anything really except make me stay with the Durselys or here."

"Harry," Hermione said gently, "If Voldemort were to attack Hogwarts and kidnap and kill you, he'd have won a battle. He could still lose the war, even without our biggest rallying point; sorry to speak bluntly. But if he gets my charm, he can see everything. All our defence spells, all of our spies, he will be able to see _everything_. Dumbledore thinks he might risk an attack on Hogwarts for that."

Ron's face had turned white. "So what will you do?" he asked shakily.

"He wants to send me away to someplace safe, and put the Fidelius charm on me."

"Like my parents," Harry said softly. "Only they were betrayed. I guess Dumbledore's going to be your secret keeper?"

"I wish," Hermione said mournfully. "There's more still." She sighed. "Voldemort asked Snape to kidnap me… Snape really is a double agent, like we guessed. Well, he _was_ one. He told Voldemort he was going to kidnap me today, but he's obviously not going to do that. By sunset Voldemort will be after Snape too. So Dumbledore decided that Professor Snape and I can go into hiding together and put the Fidelius on one another."

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed, aghast. "But… that means…"

"That nobody except Snape will be able to contact me, and I'm the only person able to contact Snape. We'll be completely alone together."

"Shit," Ron said, echoing Harry's previous comment.

"That just about sums it up," she said ruefully.

"So when are they sending you away?" Harry asked after a moment. "You have a couple of days, right?"

"I wish. I'm leaving in an hour." Once Hermione had said that, the magnitude of what was happening hit her. She was going into hiding from the most powerful dark wizard in the wizarding world in centuries with her least favourite professor. She would have to completely leave her parents and her friends. She burst into tears.

Even after six years of being best friends with Hermione Granger, a Girl, Harry and Ron were still not very good at comforting crying females. They did the best they could, but as soon as Hermione's crying stopped, their farewells ended up bringing on a fresh wave of tears. This time, they weren't only Hermione's, as the soon to be former Head Girl said goodbye to all of Gryffindor tower. Harry and Ron were the only two who knew the full story; the others had been told that Dumbledore would explain her sudden departure at breakfast the next day, and that she didn't know how long she would be gone for. _Serves him right,_ Hermione thought. _If he's making me uproot my entire life and live with _Snape_, of all people, then he can bloody well make up a cover story for me_. Then it was time to leave the tower for Dumbledore's office. With a last hug for Harry and Ron, Hermione left.

Snape was, again, already there when Hermione arrived promptly on time. Dumbledore was not there, and so the two waited in silence for the headmaster's arrival. Dumbledore arrived at ten past eleven, breaking the uncomfortable silence between Hermione and Snape.

"I apologise for being slightly late. Now, if you both have your trunks, I believe it is time to leave."

Wordlessly, they all gripped the slightly worn cushion that Dumbledore held in his hands; it was a portkey. Within seconds, they had arrived.

They found themselves in a small but cosy sitting room with one sofa and two armchairs beside a fireplace. The only other things in the room were a big bookshelf overflowing with books, and a coffee table. Eyeing the bookshelf, Hermione's first thought was that maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Then Snape's voice reminded her just how bad it would be. "I assume you want me to ward this house after you've left, Albus?"

"Of course. Incidentally, once you've put one another under the Fidelius I won't know who you are. That is, I won't be able to associate your names with this house in my mind. So you shall become a reclusive ex-professor of a small private school wanting to home school your dead wife's niece, whose parents have also died, leaving you her sole guardian, Severus. Thus we will be able to keep in correspondence over Hermione's schooling, and she will be able to take her NEWTs as planned."

"Why, is all this necessary Albus?" Snape asked tiredly. "Can she not be my daughter?" he said, with obvious distaste. Hermione was slightly offended.

"Because, Severus, you don't show any affection whatsoever to Miss Granger, and putting on a show of such love would very possibly be outside of your capabilities, even with your practise at playing roles. Secondly, you're still young, thirty-eight, and Hermione is nearly nineteen. Although it's possible, such a small age difference is unlikely, even in the muggle world."

"Headmaster?" Hermione asked, confused again. Today was beginning to feel surreal. "My eighteenth birthday was two months ago."

"Yes, but you added eight months, twenty-seven days, and three hours to your age through your use of the time-turner in your third and sixth years."

"Oh." How nice of him to have told her before now, she thought grumpily.

"Very well, headmaster," Snape said through gritted teeth. "I shall become her guardian."

"Good, good. This is how the Fidelius works, Hermione. After you've performed the charm, so long as Professor Snape never speaks or writes down your full name in the presence of another person, nobody will be able to find where you live or even to recognise you if you are seen in the street. The exact same goes for Professor Snape. You may speak one another's first name, or even last name, but as soon as you say the other's full name, including middle names, and one person overhears you, the Fidelius is off and you are immediately susceptible to Voldemort. Do you understand, Hermione?"

_How stupid does he think I am_? Hermione thought irritably. Outwardly calm, she replied, "Yes, sir."

"Good, good. In that case, I shall leave now. Severus, write a letter in a day or so saying that you would like a correspondence course for your niece. She's studied in America for six years and now wants to take NEWTs… she's exceptionally gifted and ought not to be at all behind. I think that is all. Unless Voldemort is defeated before Hermione's graduation day, do not undo the Fidelius charms on yourselves until her graduation. If you have a problem, only Severus is to be released."

"Yes, professor," Hermione said softly, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes. Snape didn't suppress a similar urge.

"Very well, then." Suddenly, the old man's eyes turned sad. "I shall bid you goodbye, then," he said heavily. He hugged Snape, who just stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do with his arms. Then it was Hermione's turn. She embraced her headmaster, too, and wondered that someone so physically frail could be so important. Then, with misty eyes on the parts of Hermione and Dumbledore, the headmaster took hold of the portkey once more and disappeared.

"Let us get this over with," Snape said after a moment's silence. "_Fidelio _Hermione Jane Granger," he said softly. There was a moment in which the world seemed to be tilting, spinning, and then all righted itself. "Was that it?" Hermione asked.

"For you. Now, you need to perform the charm on me. My name is Severus Alexander Snape."

"Right," she said shakily. Then, tightening her resolve, she pointed her wand at her professor and said, "_Fidelio_ Severus Alexander Snape."

He looked mildly disorientated for a moment, before nodding abruptly.

"Very well." He stalked out of the kitchen, presumably to ward the house, leaving Hermione alone in a strange new place with a pile of baggage. She sniffed once, swallowed, and then sniffed again, blinking away tears. She'd be damned if she was going to cry with Snape in the next room. Picking up her trunk, Hermione made her way to the door leading out of the living room. Her future had never looked so bleak.


	2. Chapter Two

**A/N I'm not sure whether or not I put a disclaimer on my first chapter, but either way it ought to be obvious: I don't own Harry Potter. There are also probably many other things I stole… Snape's middle name, for one, I vaguely recall having read someone else call him Alexander. If I've unconsciously stolen an idea from you, I apologise now… I didn't mean to! Anyway, that's that. R/R!**

The house turned out to be very small. It would have been cosy, Hermione reflected, had she not been sharing it with Snape. On the ground floor was the smallest living room she had ever seen, occupied by a two-seater couch, an armchair, a fireplace, and bookshelves lining all the walls, save the one that was taken up almost completely by a window with a large windowsill that looked most inviting. The view outside was of a deserted gravel path, and endless trees beyond that.

As she stepped out of the room, Hermione found herself in a small hallway that contained a staircase and three other doors. The doors led to a dining room, kitchen, and toilet. The kitchen was nothing spectacular, containing a muggle fridge enchanted to run from magic (Hermione wondered whether or not it was legal), a stove, a fireplace, a sink, and plenty of cupboards. A tiny laundry led off the kitchen, with just enough room for a washing machine and dryer, both enchanted like the refrigerator. The dining room was smaller even than the living room, holding only a table and two chairs. There was a sliding door at the end of the room which led out onto a patio. The patio itself had only an outdoor table with an umbrella and two chairs. Along with the toilet, that was the entire ground floor. The front door, which led out onto the gravel path outside, was between the living room and dining room.

Upstairs were simply two bedrooms, both with exactly the same layout (one double bed and a cupboard per room), and a bathroom between the two. Hermione, having finished her exploration, went back downstairs to pick up her bags from the hallway and put them in one of the rooms. Halfway down the stairs she came face to face with an angry-looking Snape.

"Move, girl!" he snapped. She obeyed without thinking, scuttling back up the stairs. "Your bags are cluttering the entire hallway," he informed her coolly once they reached the top of the stairs. "I will _not _tolerate any mess in this house for the duration of our… residence here. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," Hermione said meekly, angry with herself for not shouting back at him, for not standing up for herself.

"Then remove them immediately. My bedroom is to the left, yours to the right." With that he sneered at her and stalked off into the bedroom he had claimed his own. Hermione glared at him and marched back down the stairs. Insufferable _prick_. How _dare _he? She eyed her bags, and then levitated them back up the stairs, smiling grimly. If she was under Fidelius, then at least the ministry couldn't track her down for illegal use of magic outside of Hogwarts. Then she smiled to herself, suddenly remembering that, as of the previous summer, she had been allowed to use magic outside of Hogwarts anyway. But… if she was almost nineteen, surely…. Feeling a headache coming on, Hermione trudged up the stairs, following her baggage.

Hermione deposited her bags in the bare bedroom and looked around gloomily. She didn't want to spend even one night here, let alone months. She sat on the bed and stared at her bags. She ought to unpack. The thought of it made her even unhappier. Deciding that the bags could wait – it wasn't as if Snape was going to check that she'd unpacked – Hermione decided that the bookshelves downstairs were worth closer examination. They would probably be the only things she would actually enjoy in this house.

Of course, Snape was waiting at the bottom of the stairs for her, intent on ruining her day even further. "I assume you have finally finished unpacking?" He asked her, eyebrow raised. "You took your time coming downstairs. Come. We will now go to the town and buy food for the week. Weekly trips will be every Monday from now on, for food and other necessities. I have the money allotted to us by Dumbledore, and with me it shall remain. We will go now." He turned, cloak billowing behind him, and strode out of the front door. Hermione glared at his back, again.

"Sir?" she asked, as she caught up with him. He gave a long sigh.

"Yes?" he replied, with exaggerated patience.

_Pompous, patronising bastard_, she thought, while saying aloud, "Is this a muggle town, sir?"

"Of course it is. You ought to know that Hogsmeade is the only wizarding town in Britain."

"Yes, sir," she replied calmly. "But we're dressed in wizarding robes."

"What is your point, Miss Granger?" he snapped.

"That the muggles won't be used to robes, _Professor_," she replied, allowing a little of her irritation to creep into her voice. The man was insufferable!

"I see no reason why that is of concern to me," he replied coldly, redoubling his stride so that she had to almost run to keep up with him.

"Sir, if we're hiding from Voldemort, we can't afford to make _anyone _suspicious," she said, almost pleadingly now.

He gave another exaggerated sigh. "If we return and change will you be satisfied?"

"Yes, professor," she said, fuming.

"Very well. We will do so." And he turned around and began walking back the way they had come, along the gravel path through a forest. "And Miss Granger?"

"Yes, sir?" she asked, worried, suddenly, about his reaction to her words.

"I will _not _tolerate that tone of voice from you. We may not be at Hogwarts any more but I am still your professor and I still demand respect! Do you understand?"

She hadn't thought he could get any worse than he was in Potions class. She had thought that he was simply being sarcastic and strict to keep order and prevent people from blowing themselves up, and he was grumpy rather than permanently foul-tempered. Oh god, she thought, she'd been here all of an hour and she was already thoroughly sick of the man!

"Yes, sir," she replied neutrally, keeping her thoughts to herself.

"Keep that in mind," he snapped, and then strode even more quickly back to the house. Hermione decided that she wouldn't bother running after him. He could bloody well wait for her.

Hermione returned to the house, ignoring Snape's glare as he waited for her by the door so he could lock it behind her. She went up the stairs ahead of him, and only jumped slightly when he slammed the door hard enough to shake the windows before locking it. He was acting like a second-year, she thought grumpily. He really _had _to get over himself.

She changed into jeans and a t-shirt, and then put on a jumper because of the cold weather. Then she walked back downstairs, wondering idly what Snape would be wearing. She couldn't imagine him in muggle clothing.

True to form, her professor was wearing black. Loose-fitting black trousers, and black shirt, and… no, he couldn't be wearing a black leather jacket. "You took your time _again_, Miss Granger. It's a wonder you managed to be punctual to any of my classes."

She ignored him and walked out the door, trying not to scowl. That was helped by her observation that yes, it actually was a leather jacket. If only she had a camera. If only she could send photos to people, she thought gloomily. Professor Snape was the only wizard she would be able to have _any _contact with. The thought was depressing. This time, she strode ahead down the path, leaving Snape to lock the door behind them.

Of course, he caught up with her, but this time he kept her pace. She was glad of that because, being a bookworm and very uninterested in Quidditch, she wasn't particularly fit. Still, if this walk was long, maybe that would change. She didn't think that they would only be venturing out once a week; for a start, she was itching to explore the local library, large bookshelf or no large bookshelf. And then there was the phone booth… from the village, she'd be able to call her parents and tell them what was going on, and this way she'd be able to talk to them much more regularly than she was able to at Hogwarts. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

"Miss Granger," Snape interrupted her thoughts. Okay, so scratch that, then. How could she keep forgetting that he was beside her?

"Yes, Professor?"

"How well do you know muggle money?" he asked uncomfortably.

"Very well, sir," she told him, curious.

"The headmaster has convinced the ministry to put us on a budget of three thousand pounds a month. What will that buy us?"

Hermione's mouth fell open. She just gaped at him. "Three… three thousand _pounds_?" she asked.

"As I have _said_," Snape retorted irritably. He didn't seem particularly comfortable not knowing something.

"That's… that's a lot of money, professor," Hermione finally said. "We… yes, that is a lot. Normal grocery shopping… well, we could live off a thousand for months, if we don't need to pay taxes, or anything."

"This money is purely for our expenses. The ministry has covered everything else."

"Then… three thousand pounds will be _much_ morethan sufficient, professor."

"Good." He returned to his customary brooding silence, and they kept walking.

"Professor?" Hermione asked. "How far is it to this town?"

"Two kilometres."

"Oh."

"Usually we will apparate there and back, but apparition requires knowledge of one's destination. Am I correct in assuming you are capable of apparition?"

"Yes, I am, Professor," Hermione replied, annoyed once more by his condescending tone.

Snape made no reply. They completed the walk in silence, and found eventually what was more a village than a town.

The shop was an experience Hermione wouldn't forget in a hurry. Snape seemed to have no knowledge whatsoever of what food looked like before it was cooked; Hermione assumed that he was used to house**-**elves following his every whim. At last, after she had put raw chicken breasts in the cart and he had spent five minutes examining them and interrogating her, she politely suggested that he find a good place for apparating back. He looked at her for a moment, considering. He obviously didn't want to trust her to the shopping alone, but at the same time he didn't have much of an idea of what he was doing, and probably didn't want to further expose his ignorance. He finally agreed, after telling her not to spend excessive amounts of money and to meet him at the foot of the path. Hermione agreed passively, wanting him to go away so she could finish the shopping. At last he left, and she uttered a sigh of relief.

She noticed a girl looking at her oddly, and Hermione just shrugged and smiled before moving on to look at the milk. Behind her back, the girl contemplated her for a moment, and then came up beside her. "Are you new to the town?" she asked.

"Yes, I am," Hermione replied guardedly.

"Oh, good! My name's Melissa… I hadn't seen you at the school, so I wondered. You _are _going to go to the school, aren't you? I mean, you don't look old enough to have graduated but… I'm babbling, aren't I?"

Hermione did smile, then. "Pretty much. No, I'm afraid I'm not going to school. My uncle brought me here; he's going to home-school me for my last year."

"Oh!" That stopped her for a moment. "Well… do you know anybody here?"

"Just my uncle."

"Was that your uncle just then?"

"Yes," Hermione let her tone convey _exactly _what she thought of her professor.

"Ouch. Well hey, I need to finish this shopping for Mum," she indicated the shopping list in her hand, "but if you want a tour of the town or anything, just give me a call. Here, you want my number?"

"Thanks," Hermione said, smiling openly. "But… well, my uncle's a bit… weird. You saw him. Anyway, he doesn't like phones."

"You don't have a _phone?_" The girl looked completely shocked. "What about a computer?"

"I _wish_," Hermione said with feeling. "So not really, no."

"You do have electricity, right?" Melissa asked, worried. Hermione laughed. No, she didn't have electricity, but it would sound strange to say that the lights were powered by magic.

"Yeah, we do have electricity. But no phone, no computer, no television…"

"How do you survive?"

"I'm not sure how I'm going to," Hermione admitted, although she was referring more to the fact that she'd be spending time with Snape than to the lack of electricity and modern muggle machinery. "I've just moved in with my uncle, you see. My parents and my aunt… well, they died last month. In… a car crash together." She put a closed expression on her face, imagining how it would have felt if her parents really had died.

"That's really, really sad! Well, if you need anything, anything at all, I'll be here to help."

"Thank you." Hermione smiled. She hadn't made a friend this quickly since before she could remember. "Perhaps we could meet this weekend? We're going to be quite busy settling in this week, you see."

"Definitely. How about in the restaurant next to the cinema? On Saturday? Then I can show you around, if you like. And maybe I can introduce you to a couple of my friends in the afternoon, if you want that."

"That would be great! Oh, and I haven't told you my name," Hermione said, suddenly feeling bad. "It's Hermione."

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that," Melissa told her.

"Hermione," she replied, speaking more clearly. Melissa looked as if she still hadn't heard, and Hermione suddenly wondered exactly how the Fidelius worked. "Jane?" she tried, hoping that she could get away with her middle name.

"Oh, right. Sorry, I'm not sure _why _I couldn't year you before.

"Yeah, weird," Hermione replied.

"Well, I really do have to go, but I'll meet you this Saturday. At eleven?"

"Eleven's good." Hermione smiled once more. "I'll see you then, Melissa."

"Yeah. Bye!" Grinning, Hermione completed her shopping. Then, deciding to buy what she wanted and to hell with Snape, she bought chocolate and instant coffee as well. Still smiling, she paid for her food, and was welcomed to the town by the boy behind the checkout counter who, like Melissa, "hadn't seen her at school." She gave the same home-schooling story, and he told herhe hoped he'd see her around, before she left, feeling quite happy.

Her good mood deflated as soon as she saw Snape waiting outside the shop. Surprisingly enough, he didn't look angry that she'd taken a while. "I assume you need assistance carrying the bags?" he asked her.

"Yes, please, sir," she said.

"Very well then. Let us go." With that, he took as many bags as he could carry, and they walked in the direction of the path to the house. Hermione decided that she would tackle him about this weekend with Melissa after they'd had dinner. And she would ask him more about the Fidelius, too. Since she would probably end up making dinner (frankly, she didn't want him touching her food if he was completely inexperienced), he might even feel somewhat thankful towards her. Maybe he would even let her explore the library tomorrow!

Feeling much more light-hearted than she had been feeling an hour ago, Hermione walked alongside Snape until the town had disappeared from view. Then they walked a little way into the forest and apparated to the front steps to the house that would become her home.


	3. Chapter Three

**A/N Well, I've incorporated about half of the Cold Shoulder criteria into my fic… the rest of it will come, eventually, as my plot begins to emerge. Here's what's left:**

_#4. You must include the following phrases spoken by either of the characters:_

_ -"You're tearing my world apart" _

_ -"I hate the way you think you can throw my flaws into my face and get away with it"_

_#5. At one point in the house Hermione must be reduced to tears by the cruelty and malice Snape throws at her_****

**Thanks again to my reviewers, and I hope you like this chapter! Thanks to Pauline who, despite her inferiority complex, is an _amazing _writer and helped me _loads _with this fic… italics for emphasis well deserved.**

When they got back to the house, Snape left his shopping bags in the kitchen and immediately swept off upstairs. Rolling her eyes, Hermione began to put things away. If Snape couldn't find them later, it would just be too bad. Finally, once everything had been put away, Hermione decided that unpacking her trunk would take far too much effort. The bookshelves in the next room seemed to be calling out to her, anyway. Right now, reading a book by the fire had never sounded so good.

Half an hour later found Hermione curled up in the armchair with a book and a cup of coffee. Her stomach had been complaining for the last twenty minutes that it wanted food and she eventually put the book down. It was past two o'clock, and she realised that she hadn't eaten since breakfast. She decided to make herself a sandwich, and then her conscience told her that she ought to offer to make Snape one too. Well, she could at least remind him to eat.

Annoyed at the part of her that was telling her to interrupt whatever Snape was doing to offer food, Hermione nonetheless walked up the stairs. She stood at the top for quite a while, looking at Snape's door, before she got up the courage to knock. After a minute, Snape appeared, looking grumpy.

"You wanted something, Miss Granger?" he asked in a tone that did nothing to conceal his annoyance.

"I'm about to make myself some lunch, Professor," she replied, now wishing that she hadn't come up. "If you want something…" she left the sentence hanging, not quite sure how to finish.

"I… will eat in a moment," Snape replied at last. He didn't thank her, but she hadn't expected him to.

"Okay." Hermione walked back down the stairs, pulling faces at the steps she was descending. Of _all _the people to be stuck with, it _had _to be Snape. There was at least one god up there who had a grudge against her. Maybe more. That is, if there even _were _gods. Maybe it was Fate. Or maybe she was just really, really unlucky. Hermione's musings led her to trip on the bottom step, which put her into an even worse mood. _Damn _him.

Hermione made herself a ham sandwich and grabbed an apple before going into the living room. In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought, and set two placemats on the table. As she returned to the kitchen to get herself a drink, Snape had ventured in there, too. He looked distinctly uncomfortable. Hermione poured herself a glass of water, debating with herself as to whether or not she ought to speak to him. He didn't move; he just watched her fill her glass. At last, she said,

"I've put the bread in the breadbasket, sir. Everything else is either in that cupboard," she pointed, "or the fridge. I've put the chicken in the freezer."

"Very well." He nodded to her, face impassive, and she decided that her good deeds had been done for the day. Hermione retreated back into the dining room, where she slowly ate her sandwich, lost in thought. She was just starting on her apple when Snape came into the room. He sat at the place she had laid, opposite her. He seemed to have a selection of meats and cheeses along with the bread on his plate. Wondering whether or not he knew how to make a sandwich, Hermione finished her apple. Then she decided to ask him about the Fidelius charm now, before she either forgot or his mood worsened.

"Professor Snape?" she asked. "I… have a couple of questions about the Fidelius."

"Do you indeed? I'm surprised you don't know all about it already," he replied wryly. "My information is, of course, entirely at your disposal."

"Please, sir," she said, restraining her irritation again, "exactly how does the Fidelius charm work?"

Snape took a slow, precise bite of his meal and chewed it, looking at her thoughtfully. At last he swallowed, and took a measured sip of his own drink. "The Fidelius Charm," he began, "was designed when the magical extension of the British royal family was threatened by French warlocks in the thirteenth century. The brother of the king at the time invented the Fidelius Charm, and taught it to his best friend. He then had the entire family placed under the charm.

"The aim of the Fidelius is to hide everyone placed under the charm from all but the secret keeper and others that the secret keeper is hiding. Thus, the royal family was able to see one another as well as the best friend. It is for that reason Albus requested we perform the charm on another; in doing so, we circumvented the use of a third party, making our detection almost completely impossible.

"The people who know us well will not entirely forget us. They will remember our names and recognise us in photographs or pictures, but our significance and importance to them will disappear. We will become, to them, just another face in the crowd of humanity. Our importance to them will disappear. To people who know our names but not our personalities, our names will be forgotten. Official records of us will disappear or become unreadable. And to people we have never met before, we will not be able to give out our real names. I suggest that you use your middle name if it becomes necessary to give one.

"Of course, we will be recognised under our assumed names, but nobody, even a person we knew well previous to the casting of the charm, will be able to recognise us as ourselves, as Hermione Granger or Severus Snape. I will become Alexander to those I meet, you Jane, and those will be our identities." He sat back, having finished his lecture, and took another mouthful of bread and cheese.

"So there's no point in sending letters, then," Hermione said, more to herself than to her professor. "Thank you, Professor," she replied, despondently.

"You are welcome, Miss Granger," he replied stiffly.

They finished their meals in silence. Hermione went back to the sitting room to pick up her book again, after cleaning up all of the dishes. She had absolutely _no _intention of doing all of his cleaning up for him, but she would tell him that after he'd agreed to let her go to the library tomorrow, and let her meet Melissa on the Saturday.

She was only able to read for another hour before Snape came into the sitting room, disturbing her peace. "We will work on your studies now," he informed her. "You will have three hours of study with me, and then once you have done your homework you will have the rest of the evening free."

"Yes Professor Snape," she told him dutifully, annoyed that he felt he could continually disrupt her whenever he felt like it. Yes, he was her professor, but she was _not _a house elf. He had no right to treat her like one.

"We will have three hours of studying in the morning and three in the afternoon most days. Study on Monday mornings will be an exception for shopping. Thursday and Sunday mornings you will have off for any errands you need to do, and we will not study at all on Saturdays. Do you have any questions?"

Resentment rose in her throughout his little speech; he was treating her like an irresponsible four-year-old, giving her no option, and no part in the decision-making. It was as if he had absolutely no knowledge of the _reason _that she was being kept here with him: she was extremely powerful and held the patent for two of the most important spells in their time! She had to bite her lip to keep from snapping back, and only when she was sure she had controlled her anger did she say, "Yes, sir."

"Very well. Which subjects were you taking at Hogwarts?"

She felt a sudden pang of homesickness, strange as that sounded. "Um… Advanced Charms, Transfiguration, Arithmancy, and Potions. Standard-level Defence Against the Dark Arts and Herbology."

"Very well." He said again, his face unreadable. Then, "Bring down all your textbooks and whatever else you usually need for class."

"Yes, Professor," she replied, now more tired than angry. The day had been so long, they'd done so much, and it wasn't even half past three yet. She walked up the stairs to her room, wanting to run but not wanting him to see that. Her arms overloaded with books, she came back down the stairs, somehow managing to not lose her balance on the way.

She found him in the dining room when she got downstairs. The next three hours passed relatively quickly. Snape kept his sarcastic comments to a minimum, and they spent most of the time setting a general lesson plan for the next few weeks. They didn't actually begin the lessons, though. Once Snape had found out where she was in each of her studies and decided on how they would continue, he informed her that they would brew potions on the patio outside.

The next two hours were spent in enlarging the patio and setting up a space where they could chop ingredients and brew potions, erecting a makeshift tent complete with some very strong shielding charms (courtesy of Snape, who would not allow Hermione to assist him with the casting) to keep future projects from weather contamination. By the time the outside potions 'lab' was completed, Hermione's teeth were chattering and her fingers and nose had gone completely numb. She wanted nothing more than to sit in front of the fire and defrost, which she proceeded to do. Snape, unfortunately, had gone in the same room, and was reading a rather thick, musty book.

At about eight o'clock, Hermione decided to broach the subject of food once again. "Professor?" she asked.

"What is it this time?" he snapped irritably.

"I was _about _to offer to cook dinner for us tonight," Hermione told him, barely keeping her voice on the safe side of civil.

"What were you intending to cook?" he asked in a tone very similar to hers.

"Grilled chicken and salad. It's getting late," she told him.

"How does the time have any significance on what we eat?" he asked her. Apparently, he was in a bad mood. Well, a worse mood than normal.

"Chicken and salad will not take very long to cook. Half an hour, forty-five minutes. If you would prefer, I'll leave you to cook your own meal. I'm making mine now."

"Very well. However, if I get food poisoning you will _not _enjoy the rest of your stay here, rest assured."

_Because I'm going to enjoy it _so _much otherwise_, she retorted mentally. "I cook well, _Professor_," she told him shortly, and left the room before he had time to retort. His attitude was going to change, she told herself. She would not let this continue for much longer.

Dinner was made within half an hour. Hermione even set the table and served the food, not wanting Snape anywhere near her for as long as she could help it. At last, she went into the living room to tell him that dinner was ready. He nodded his head in acknowledgement, and continued to read. She glared at him, perversely pleased that he couldn't take house points, and went back into the dining room to eat her own meal. He came in a minute later and sat opposite her without a word. He looked uncomfortable, she noticed.

They ate in silence for a while, until Hermione said, "While I was shopping today, a muggle girl spoke to me."

"How delightful for you," he replied without glancing up from his plate.

Hermione continued, ignoring his sarcasm as best she could, "She wanted to know about us. I told her that my parents and your wife died in a car crash, and that you moved us here. I told her that you're my uncle, and that you're home-schooling me." Snape made no reply. "She invited me to go out with her and a couple of her friends this Saturday."

"I see you've wasted no time replacing Potter and Weasley," he commented. Hermione stiffened, but didn't react.

"May I go?"

"If you must."

"Thank you." Talking to the man was like pulling teeth. She'd go to the library on Saturday; there was no way she'd ask him for a second favour, especially if he was going to be this difficult about it. Dinner continued in an awkward silence.

At last, Hermione broke the silence a second time. "I bought nothing for dessert. There's chocolate and coffee. I did buy the usual baking stuff, but without recipe books I don't know how to make much more than a basic sponge cake."

Snape merely nodded his head. He finished his last mouthful and placed his knife and fork together on his plate. Then he sat up and actually looked at her for the first time during the meal, slowly sipping his glass of water. His unblinking gaze unnerved her, but it irritated her more than anything else. _Fine_, she thought. _Blunt and to-the-point it will be_.

"Can you cook, Professor?" she asked.

He responded to that with a glare. "My expertise is in _poison_, not the culinary arts," he told her scathingly.

_I'll take that as a 'no,'_ she thought grumpily. "I'm prepared to cook dinner each night," she finally said. "I'll even cook breakfast on the weekends. But I won't do all of the cleaning up as well. You tutor me, fine; I'll do the cooking. But we can share the cleaning up." She took a breath and looked at him, wondering what his reaction would be. He made no reply, but kept his features blank and continued to watch her.

"The house is going to need cleaning, too," Hermione told him, determined to persevere. She would _not _let him unnerve her into silence. "I'm prepared to do a lot of that, but I won't do all of it." If he was to tutor her, she wouldn't let him hold that over her head. She might, she thought, be able to keep up with her work herself with the correspondence course that Dumbledore had told Snape to owl him for, but she would prefer to have a teacher all the same. This way, it would be more of a fair share… satisfying her conscience, too. "I'll do the vacuuming, mopping and sweeping, once a week. We'll share the rest of the work." She looked at him again, nervously now. She was unconsciously fiddling with her napkin, unfolding and refolding it in her lap. When she realised what she was doing she stopped and laced her fingers together, waiting for his response.

"Is there anything else you'd like to add?" Professor Snape asked in a very soft voice.

"Nothing I can think of," she replied evenly, in a voice much more confident than it ought to have been. The look in Snape's eyes suggested that he was very quickly about to become very angry.

And then, his temper exploded.

**A/N There wasn't much in this chapter, I know, but it's necessary filler stuff. Much fighting and revenge to come… I can't let them off easily, after all! Next chapter: Hermione decides that she's had enough of being obedient. Review, please!**


	4. Chapter Four

**A/N There's quite a bit of shouting in this one, so those of you who want Hermione to get a backbone ought to be satisfied. Not all of this has been edited by my beta (who has now gone on holiday… lucky girl), so excuse mistakes etc towards the end. **

_"All day_, Miss Granger, I have _put up_ with you. All day! Albus _Dumbledore _has forced us into this _house _together, and we have no choice in the matter. I do not _want_ to be here, but I have _no choice_. If I _had_ wanted to be here you are most certainly the last person in the world I would want to be here with. You are, in short, insufferable. But still I do as Dumbledore says, for your safety. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I could have handed you over to Voldemort without a second thought. Instead, I did my duty by you as I have done for the past _six years_, Miss Granger, saving your life time and time again. I will not have all my efforts, all my work repaid in this way. You are not in charge, Miss Granger, and I have no intention whatsoever of allowing you to tell me what you do and do not expect. Do you understand?"  
  
His voice became louder and louder through his speech, so that he was literally shouting the last sentence. It took all of Hermione's efforts not to burst into tears. She could not deal with this right now. Not now, and she wished she would never have to. "I…" she began, but he interrupted her.  
  
"I believe, Miss Granger, that you owe me an apology. I will not be treated as if I am one of your weak-minded little friends. You will do as I say. There will be no compromises." His tone was calmer now, but his eyes were full of undiminished fury. Hermione still felt the urge to cry, but it was surpassed now, by rage.  
  
"How dare you?" she hissed, her anger matching his. "How dare you treat me as if I am a child incapable of the simplest of tasks? You would have been lost today if it weren't for me! The reason Voldemort wants me is because I invented charms capable of _devastating_ effects! I am not some child, we are not at Hogwarts and you cannot order me around!" And then, as suddenly as her anger had come on, it was gone, leaving her feeling very tired and with the urge to cry again. Snape looked murderous, but she cut off whatever he had been about to say by telling him,  
  
"There's no point talking to you until you reign in your temper and actually think. Good night, Professor." She left the table and the room as quickly as she could manage, and slammed the door behind her in the face of whatever words were coming out of his mouth. Then, as the tears escaped her eyes, she fled up the stairs and to her rooms, locking them and then warding them for good measure. Then she collapsed on the bed, tears coursing down her face.  
  
"Damn you, Snape," she whispered into her pillow. "It's all your fault. You've turned my whole bloody life upside down." She cried for what felt like hours, weeping until all the emotion had been washed through her. At last, fatigue overcame despair, and she fell asleep, still dressed in her clothes, face down on the pillow.  
  
It was still dark outside when she awoke, her head pounding and her throat on fire. She sat slowly, looking around at the unfamiliar room until yesterday's events clicked back into place. She checked her watch, and it told her that it was three in the morning. Snape, at least, would be asleep. She took her wand from her pocket and checked the wards on her room; they had not been disturbed. Or, if they had, they had been replaced. Not wanting to think about the second possibility, Hermione stood from her bed and, with a muttered lumos, walked towards the door. It was cold, she realised, much colder than Hogwarts usually got at night.  
  
Hermione undid her wards, half expecting to see Snape leap at her after she'd opened the door, never mind that he could have easily broken the wards anyway, never mind that it was three in the morning. It was dark on the upstairs landing, darker than it had been in her room. She crept down the stairs with her wand in front of her. In the kitchen she poured herself a glass of water and sipped it slowly. Her sore throat was soothed a little, and her headache lessened.  
  
She washed up her glass, and then realised that her plate and the leftovers from dinner were probably still on the table. She weighed the options in her head; she could not clean then up, and give Snape extra ammunition in the morning, or she could do them now and have him smirk at her tomorrow. Today. Whatever. With a heartfelt sigh she went into the dining room. His place, she noticed, had been cleaned up completely. He had left hers sitting on the table. Angry again with the man upstairs, she cleared the table and then, back in the kitchen, began to wash and dry.  
  
She had just finished and was sipping her second glass of water, looking out of the window into the dark back garden, when the lights suddenly came on. She whirled around, nearly spilling her drink, to find a half-asleep Snape with his wand pointed at her. She brought her own wand up, but said nothing. He slowly lowered his, and glared at her.  
  
"What are you doing downstairs, Granger?" he snarled at her.  
  
"Getting a drink," she responded curtly. Her headache had just come back with a vengeance. "And now I'm going back to bed." With that, she stepped neatly around him and out the door, climbing the stairs, and going back into her room. She debated whether or not to re-ward the door, but that would take far too much effort. Snape would be able to break the wards anyway, and there was nobody else who even knew she was here. Hermione undressed and got into bed, extinguishing the light in her wand. Before long, she was asleep.  
  
When Hermione woke the next morning it was half past seven o'clock. She was unsure as to how Snape would react after last night's display of temper, and seriously considered just staying in bed for the rest of the day. Still, she wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing. Besides, she was hungry. And, she reasoned, she didn't know what time her "studying" with Snape was supposed to begin but if she turned up late he would not be amused.  
  
She got out of bed reluctantly and decided that the first order of the day was to get to the bathroom before Snape. Aside from needing the toilet, she wanted a long, hot, shower.  
  
Having finished showering, thankful that there had been no sign of Snape, Hermione returned to her room and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt before venturing downstairs. Snape was still nowhere to be seen downstairs either, to Hermione's relief. Gryffindor courage or no Gryffindor courage, she wasn't eager to meet the man after last night's shouting match.  
  
She ate breakfast in the small dining room and, at about half past eight, moved into the living room. That was where Snape found her half an hour later, curled up with a book and a mug of coffee in front of a merrily burning fire.  
  
"We have issues we need to resolve, Miss Granger," he informed her curtly. He'd regained the 'Miss,' she noticed abstractly. During the night – or was it early morning? – he had simply called her 'Granger' in much the same way he called Harry 'Potter.'  
  
"We do, Professor," she replied calmly. Then she put a bookmark in her book and uncurled herself to face him. He remained standing, thoughtfully regarding her.   
  
"Unless I've got something on my nose, Professor," she said tartly after a few minutes, "Is there something you'd like to say?"  
  
He raised an eyebrow at her in response, but said nothing. After a small sigh, he said, "I am going to be completely blunt, Miss Granger."  
  
_For a change,_ she thought sarcastically. Choosing to keep the peace, for the moment at least, she simply nodded in response.  
  
"You do not like me. I do not particularly like you. Neither of us wants to be here, yet we both must." He really was being blunt. "This will not work if we are continually insulting one another. I am the adult in this situation and, whether you like it or not, ultimate authority resides in me."  
  
It was far too early in the morning for an argument, Hermione thought sourly, but it didn't look like she would have much choice. "Ultimate authority I agree with Professor," she told him calmly. "You're older than me, you have more experience with the wizarding world than I do, and you probably know more than I do. In our... situation... I agree, you do have ultimate control. But that doesn't mean you can order me around for any reason you choose. I'm an adult, Professor Snape. I'm not the child you persist in treating me as." Then she leant back in her chair and waited for him to start shouting again.  
  
He looked surprised at her speech, if only for a moment, before he schooled his face into its usual unpleasant scowl. He sat abruptly, perching on the sofa opposite her, and studied her for a moment. It seemed she had indeed surprised him.  
  
"You cannot fully comprehend our situation," he told her eventually. "You are a child. It's a gift, as much as anything else. You don't understand-"  
  
She cut him off, "Of course I bloody well understand! Voldemort killed Harry's parents. He's killed more people than I can count. He wants to kill us. And if he does get us, he'll torture all – much of - our side's information out of you and learn my charms from me. He'll become close on indestructible and we'll be dead. So excuse me if you think I don't understand the situation!"  
  
Snape sighed wearily. "He _won't_ get information out of us," he told her darkly, "but he will try. Regardless of whether or not you understand the gravity of the situation, I have far more experience than you do, far more knowledge and understand of Voldemort's tactics-"  
  
"I know!" she told him, exasperated. "I know and I've said that you obviously have ultimate authority. I will agree to your judgment safety-wise. That does not mean that I'll do everything you say just because you enjoy having power... it doesn't mean that you can tell me what to do. We'll both pull our own weight, Professor. We're stuck here together and we have-"  
  
"Miss Granger," he snarled, "This is exactly what I am telling you I will not put up with! I-"  
  
"STOP! Just _stop_." Hermione shouted. Snape did stop, more out of shock, she suspected, than of anything else. She doubted any student had ever shouted at him before. "We're going around in circles, Professor," she said softly. "All that I want is to be consulted about decisions that involve me. Give me a choice, at least, or some say. Please don't just make decisions without at least asking me first."  
  
Snape took a deep breath. "Very well," he said at last, as if the words were painful. "I will... consult you." He seemed about to say more, but then thought better of it. "If you agree," and he put a sarcastic emphasis on the word, "Perhaps we can start your studies now? I shall Owl Dumbledore for a correspondence course this morning."  
  
"Yes, Professor," Hermione told him, wondering idly what he would do should she slap him in their next argument for being a self-important arrogant prick. Maybe she would try it and find out... smiling a little, she ran up the stairs to get her books. This ought to be interesting, at any rate. She highly doubted he would let their compromise stand as it was for long... if she knew anything about Severus Snape, he would play this game by his own rules. What he didn't know was that she, too, was prepared to rip up the rulebook.  
  
Snape, meanwhile, was decidedly put-out. He had not been spoken to as Miss Granger was speaking to him in over eighteen years – not since he had graduated from Hogwarts himself, in fact. It appeared that quiet, bookish, play-by-the-rules Granger was suddenly developing into a person who didn't give a damn about the rules. He didn't like that at all. Something would have to be done about the girl, he decided. He would have to put her back in her place. And as she came back into the room with books in her arms, he thought he might as well exercise the power he did have over her. Surely, if she had more homework per night than she could possibly do in a week, she wouldn't be any more trouble. He smiled maliciously to himself. Perhaps the next few days would not be without interest after all. 


	5. Chapter Five

**A/N And here's the next chapter… it took a little longer to come out than the last few, but it's longer than they are, too. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed; you don't know how much I appreciate you! Thanks also, as always, to Pauline… who does a wonderful job of finding mistakes and feeding my ego. This chapter's dedicated to her, for everything she's done so far, and not only betaing. Thank you! Hope you all like the chapter.**

"That, Miss Granger, will do for this morning. We'll begin on Care of Magical Creatures," Snape told Hermione, injecting a sneer into his voice, "Arithmancy, and Potions this afternoon. Can you be trusted to prepare lunch while I write a letter to Headmaster Dumbledore?"

Hermione was inches away from snapping at him. "Of course, Professor," she said sweetly instead, wishing she _could_ slap him. It wouldn't be productive, though, and he might decide not to owl Dumbledore after all.

She walked slowly into the kitchen, taking deep, calming breaths as she went. Lunch. Making lunch was her next priority; killing her Potions Professor could wait until after he'd sent the letter to the headmaster. Then, with her correspondence course and thus her studies guaranteed, she could focus on revenge. Useful as having a teacher was, she could bloody well teach herself the things she needed to know for the NEWTs, because no way in hell was she going to subject herself to _this _every day.

She glared around the little kitchen. Sandwiches would do for lunch, she decided crossly, and Snape would just have to be happy with it. He was, of course, accustomed to Hogwarts' cuisine, but Hermione had no intentions of cooking a full meal for both lunch and dinner. Besides, he kept his side of the agreement with the greatest amount of unpleasantness he could possibly incorporate, so why should she have to cater to his expectations?

When all was ready, she called out to him, "Lunch is ready, Professor."

She received no reply. Glaring at her sandwich (she realised she was glaring rather frequently, but cast the thought aside), she debated whether or not to get him. She probably ought to, she realised; after all, somebody in this house had to be the 'bigger' person, and the chances of that being Snape were approximately the same as those of Voldemort becoming a monk.

Still, she saw no reason to be gracious about it. Hermione stood from the table and went into the living room, where Snape was reading a book. There was no parchment in sight. He hadn't even sent the letter to Dumbledore!

"I apologise, Professor Snape," she began icily, "I had forgotten that with age comes hearing loss, otherwise I would not have bothered to call to let you know that it is lunch time. Please pardon me, I shall most definitely come and tell you in person at the next meal. I trust the letter to the headmaster did not prove too difficult?" She was probably overreacting, but at this moment she couldn't bring herself to care. Besides, Snape was so angry that he was beginning to shake, and she had the feeling that she ought to be feeling far more fear than she was at present.

"I thought we had _established_, Miss Granger, that respect is necessary for our coexistence here?" he asked in a deceptively soft tone.

"Indeed it was, Professor. _Mutual_ respect," she told him, glaring still.

"Miss Granger," he began, in the same soft tone he had used before, "Do you not want the correspondence course? It will take only moments for me to Owl the headmaster and tell him to forget about it," he snapped. "A second thing, if you expect me to drop everything that I am doing purely because you have finished preparing… whatever it is that you're experimenting with in the kitchen… you can let go of that illusion quickly. I am at the beck and call of nobody, Miss Granger, and you would do well to remember that."

With that, he stood and exited the room, his robes swirling customarily… leaving Hermione feeling like a petulant three-year-old. Which was probably his intention, she reflected sourly. Damn the man.

Lunch was a cold affair. Snape did not deign to speak to Hermione, not even to thank her for the food, which added resentment to her mix of emotions; none of them pleasant. Snape finished his sandwich before she finished her own, and swept out of the room again, leaving his plate on the table yet again. This time she refused to clean it for him. She was _not _his maid.

After lunch brought more viciousness by Snape, although this time he interspersed insulting Hermione's knowledge of Care of Magical Creatures (superior to that of the rest of the class put together, not that she could expect him to acknowledge it) with insults to Hagrid's teaching technique. If she had paused in her hatred of Snape to think about his comments, she would probably have silently agreed with them. She was too angry with him to think about it.

"I don't suppose your _teacher_," he sneered, "ever came close to actually teaching anything on the syllabus."

"You're repeating yourself, Professor," Hermione finally snapped, breaking her already strained self-control. "Why, you're beginning to give me the impression that you think you're the only half-decent teacher on the staff. Perhaps, Professor, if you would care to open your mind a little, you would find that your own teaching methods leave something to be desired!"

There was complete silence in the room. Hermione's brain suddenly caught up with her mouth, and, after a few moments, managed to produce a concise summary of the situation: _Shit_. Snape's look of complete and total shock was beginning to turn into one of fury. The only sensible action, Hermione decided, was to flee. To hell with Gryffindor courage.

She picked up her books and ran from the room, running up the stairs and putting the largest number of locking charms, spells, hexes, and wards on the door that she knew how. With little afterthought she did the same to the bathroom door. _Shit indeed_.

She finished the wards just in time. As the put the last one on the bathroom door and fell back onto her bed, she heard thunderous footsteps coming up the stairs, and then loud banging knocks on her bedroom door. Snape had apparently got over his shock. At least, Hermione thought ruefully, he couldn't take housepoints or give her a detention. He couldn't kill her, either, and that thought gave her much more heart than the previous one; after all, Snape needed her alive to be his Secret Keeper, otherwise Voldemort would kill him. But the only reason Voldemort wanted Snape's head on a plate was because of her… but then the man shouldn't have turned to Voldemort in the first place, should he? It wasn't her fault that Snape had chosen to become a deatheater spy.

The loud banging on the door was now accompanied by shouting. "Let me in at once! You have overstepped all potential boundaries! Whatever you think gave you the right to-" Hermione cast a silencing charm in the attempts to drown out the man's voice. Her own voice quavered as she cast the charm; she had thoroughly insulted a teacher, and then locked herself in her room to escape the aforementioned teacher. Said teacher was also a wizard of incredible magical abilities, and while her own were hardly to be laughed at, her skill at ward casting was nowhere near as good as the inherently-paranoid Professor Snape's. She was in big trouble.

She noticed that the door had stopped shuddering. Was that a good thing or a bad one? With trepidation, she removed the silence charm, to hear incomprehensible mutterings on the other side of the door. Then,

"You took the _silencio_ charm off, Miss Granger? I hope you realise that you have committed the gravest of-" nothing new there, then. She replaced the charm, feeling slightly numb. He wouldn't kill her, but what would he do? He surely wouldn't let this situation go unpunished. The whole thing felt very unreal. Suddenly, it all seemed incredibly funny; she had been forced to live with Severus Snape, she had shouted at him numerous times to his face, and now she had thoroughly degraded his teaching method and ability, accused him of being narrow minded, barricaded herself in her room, and cast a silencing charm on the door so she could not hear him. She burst into laughter, crying at the same time. What had happened to her life?

The door to the bathroom started shaking now too, and it suddenly turned a bright, blinding, lightning shade of white-blue. The combined exhaustion, fear, stress, hysterics, and now terror came together suddenly. Hermione Granger, for the first time in her life, fainted.

Hermione awoke to the sensation of icy water on her face. She choked, spluttered, sneezed, and sat up all at once. A few hard thumps on her back later and she was breathing normally. She opened her eyes in confusion. "What's-" she began, only to have the events of the last couple of days come rushing back. She found that she suddenly had a headache. Turning slowly, and reluctantly, she saw Severus Snape looking at her with a look that could possibly be loosely termed worry, before his face resolved itself into a fierce scowl.

"Do you have an explanation, Miss Granger?" he asked her coolly.

Her response was to groan and curl up in a ball on the bed. She would be expelled… but she couldn't, she would be… what would happen? She began crying again; twice in one day, she realised randomly, and that thought brought on a fresh onslaught of tears.

Had she looked up at her Potions Professor at that moment she would have been surprised to see that he looked disconcerted. He raised his arm slightly, perhaps to stroke her arm in an awkward attempt to be comforting, before scowling at the offending appendage and returning it squarely to join his other hand in his lap.

"Miss Granger," he said at last. There was no response; Hermione remained curled up in a foetal position, shaking with sobs. "Hermione?" he tried hesitantly. There was still no visible reaction.

"Miss Granger!" he snapped suddenly, and with authority. "Calm yourself at once!" His I-demand-attention-now tone of voice reached her where his previous uncertainty mingled with carefully concealed concern had not. She straightened herself and made a visible effort at composure.

"I…" she said, "I… am really, really sorry, Professor Snape." She tensed, as if expecting to be hit. Snape massaged his forehead, trying to relieve the some of the pressure from his own headache.

"Today and yesterday have been… difficult," he acknowledged at last. "It would be best, perhaps, if we try to put this behind us."

Her eyes widened. "I'm not… you're not angry?"

"I am furious, Miss Granger," he said coolly and completely seriously. "I fear that most of that anger is misdirected, however, as is most of yours. You're suffering from shock, Miss Granger, as any wizard with the slightest medical training could tell you. And," he admitted, "I think I have yet to recover from the sudden change of circumstances myself.

"Our current situation is the best for both of us, as I am sure you realise intellectually, but I fear the emotional trauma on your behalf is considerable."

Hermione looked at him through tear-blurry vision. Unless she was hallucinating, Snape was making allowances for her behaviour, accrediting it to shock, and admitting that he wasn't particularly comfortable with the situation either.

He continued, "Why don't we continue with lessons another day, Miss Granger? I think we both need to get out of this house for a while, and coming to know another better would not, I think, be amiss either. Would you, perhaps, care for dinner in the town tonight? We can familiarise ourselves with the area. Besides which, I doubt that either of us is prepared to cook tonight."

"I… yes, Professor, that sounds like a good idea," she replied. "Um… you're not angry with me?"

"Not as angry as I fear I ought to be. While an overreaction on your behalf, I feel that we both need to adjust to this situation. A feud will do nothing to rectify the situation, and I feel sure that any retribution I exact will be returned in kind. A break will do both of us good."

"Of course, Professor Snape," Hermione said meekly.

"Very well." He stood from the bed abruptly. "In that case, we will leave for the town in half an hour. I assume that will be enough time for you to prepare yourself?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. The sudden revert to type confused Hermione for a moment, but she nodded acquiescence.

"Good. You have half an hour then." He went to the door, turned the knob… and suddenly stepped back. "The wards are still active," he said, more to himself than to her.

"Sir?" Hermione asked, confused.

"Your wards," he repeated, as if speaking with a particularly obtuse toddler. "You put wards on your door and have yet to take them down."

"Yes, sir," she replied, still too disoriented to be truly angry, "but you're on the other side of them. How did you get in?" He did not answer, merely looked at her, his face expressionless. She looked at him in return, brow furrowed, before suddenly realising that the window was open. She put two and two together, and found it hard to restrain her laughter.

"Did you… climb through the window, sir?" she asked at last, when she was sure she could keep the amusement out of her voice. He was not fooled.

With a frown, he replied, "I did. When I countered your _silencio_ I was struck with silence, and you made no reply to my enquiries. Your wards were rather too complex for me to remove immediately," and she thought she saw a speck of grudging admiration in his eyes then, but it was gone almost as soon as it appeared, "and I felt that it was possible that you had caused yourself injury. The window seemed the only quick option."

He had been concerned about her, she realised with sudden clarity. Perhaps only because of his own safety at her injury, perhaps because he would be forced to look after her if she caused herself personal harm… perhaps only because it was his duty as a teacher, but he had worried enough about her to actually climb through the window. She had no illusions that he had done it out of any appreciation of her own personality, but he had done it nonetheless.

"Thank you, Professor," she said, with no desire anymore to laugh.

"Very well, Miss Granger, but these wards have yet to be taken down."

Interpreting that, correctly, as a request for help in dismantling the wards, she got up from the bed and began to take the ones on the door to the bathroom down, as he dealt with the wards on the other door.

Half an hour later, they were still at it. "These are remarkably strong, Miss Granger," Snape commented at last, with a sneer. She ignored his unpleasantness.

"They are," she replied noncommittally. Then she admitted, "but they do take a lot longer to bring down than they did to put up."

"Which is the entire point of wards," Snape reminded her pointedly. "Perhaps we ought to both work on this door, and leave that door for later. Assuming, of course, that you wish to be out of here before dark without resorting to climbing out of windows."

"Yes, sir," she agreed politely, and moved over to help with the wards on the door to the landing, grinning internally. Either Snape's skill was lacking, which she highly doubted, or she was stronger than she had previously thought. Snape didn't seem eager to admit her talent, though, rather, he was glaring at the door, having dropped all pretence of working.

"What have you _put _on here, Miss Granger?" he asked at last, with frustration. They had, between them, removed all but the first, and incidentally strongest, ward on the door. "I have never seen the like of it before, botched spell or otherwise."

"I didn't botch it!" she replied indignantly. "It's a variation on the combined expulsio and incarcero charm… put together they form a combination that will keep outsiders from entering but allow those on the inside to exit. You can get out now, Professor, but only I can enter again - through the door, anyway." She was proud of her achievement; it had, actually, been a new project that she had been working on after having achieved the two new charms. "I'm working on refining it so that it will let anybody I want through but keep everyone else at bay, but I haven't got that far yet…"

"Obviously. Well, let us exit now, and we can take the charm off tomorrow. I doubt I shall have need to re-enter your room any time in the immediate future. If you can be ready in half an hour, we shall walk to town then."

"Walk, sir?" she asked. "Don't you want to Apparate?"

"The exercise will do both of us good, Miss Granger. You ask far too many questions, using energy better spent on thought, I find. Prepare yourself now, we leave in twenty-eight minutes."

Hermione managed to keep from rolling her eyes until he had left the room.


	6. Chapter Six

**A/N Less than normal, but I wanted to get this up now, because otherwise it could very possibly be a month until I get the chance to write more. Hope you like this chapter.**

Hermione eyed the contents of her trunk, wishing that she actually had unpacked the previous day. There was still time for that now, come to think of it… a couple of spells later and her clothes were all hanging up neatly in the closet or folded and put in drawers. She selected a suitable pair of trousers and a top for the evening – she needed to be able to walk to town, after all, but she highly doubted that Snape would ever be seen in a restaurant that wouldn't require formal dress. She grinned, and decided that she would take Snape to a McDonalds at least once during their enforced seclusion. The look on his face would be well worth the blistering lecture she was sure to receive.

Grabbing a suitably dressy jacket she was ready to go, and then realised that she had another fifteen minutes before Snape would leave. Concentrating a little, she pulled out her wand and set to work attempting to modify the charm on her door. By the time those fifteen minutes were up, she had successfully changed the ward to allow Snape to enter. Of course, eventually she would want to have it so that only those who did not wish her harm would be able to enter, but this would do in the meantime.

She emerged from her room at the exact same time that Snape came out of his own. He was dressed as he had been the day before, all in black. She grinned, realising that nobody would have any trouble believing that he was grieving for a dead wife. "When you have finished inspection my choice of clothing, Miss Granger, shall we leave? I assume everything is up to your standards?"

As unpleasantly as Snape managed to phrase the question, reading between the lines Hermione realised that he was probably asking her if he looked enough like a muggle to blend in. "Most muggles don't dress in all black," Hermione told him blandly, "but neither do most wizards, and you're supposed to be a widow, so that's okay. I'm ready to go when you are, Professor." He scowled at her and nodded once, before sweeping down the stairs. It had lost some of its power, she reflected. Without the robes swirling around him he didn't look nearly as intimidating.

When he reached the bottom and fixed a glare at her for still being at the top, she decided that robes or not he was certainly intimidating enough. She hurried downstairs and out of the house, letting Snape close the wards behind him.

"I've fixed that charm," Hermione said as he was finishing. "I've modified it to include you – shall I put that one on the house too?" she asked him.

"If you must," he told her with a world-weary sigh. She interpreted that as a 'yes, good idea' in the language of normal people, and put the ward on the entire house. It was weaker than in her bedroom - warding large objects was extremely hard - but it would stop an intruder for a moment just because it was new.

"Have you finished yet, Miss Granger, or do your plans for the evening extend to standing in front of the house all night?"

"My plans are the same as yours, Professor, and yes, I have finished." He was still sour that he hadn't been able to immediately break her ward in the bedroom, although she had no doubts that he would have been able to given another twenty minutes.

"Then let us go."

"Gladly, Professor."

"Must you always have the last word? It is a habit most unbecoming in a young lady – a title you do wish to earn eventually, do you not?"

"I believe I will be cured of the habit before my mid thirties, Professor," she replied lightly, and then turned her head so he wouldn't see her grin. He couldn't reply now for fear of seeming petty, and she actually had managed to have the last word. It would go down in Hogwarts history… but nobody at Hogwarts even knew of her existence.

Almost as depressed as she had been that afternoon, she and Snape walked the rest of the way to the town in silence.

When they arrived, Snape broke the silence. "I suggest we walk around and familiarise ourselves with the town. We can find a restaurant afterwards and eat there."

Over the next two hours they discovered that the only street worth paying attention to was the main street, where there was a school at one end, a library (with a concealed magical section that Snape had discovered), plenty of shops, two supermarkets, a liquor store that Snape had insisted upon entering, only to sneer at its "inferior products and selection," and a couple of restaurants that seemed up to even Snape's standards. Sadly, there was no McDonalds, but Hermione felt that if they ever decided to go on a trip to London she would ensure that Snape ate in one.

At last they settled on a small Italian restaurant to eat in, and were shown to a table. The gossiping waitress wanted to know everything about the newcomers to town, and Hermione gave her the same story she had given Melissa while Snape did his best to get rid of her with a glare that would have caused Neville to faint. He seemed quite put out when the waitress didn't even notice, but gave them menus and began chattering about her son. When she finally did leave, Snape looked about ready to murder somebody.

Hermione couldn't help but laugh. "They're really friendly here, aren't they?" she asked him.

"Indeed," he replied coldly.

And then they were interrupted again, this time by a greeting behind her. Snape scowled, but Hermione grinned as she recognised Melissa's voice. "Jane! What a surprise! How are you doing?" Snape winced with every exclamation mark, and Hermione grinned again. It seemed that her friends would always be destined to irritate Snape.

She turned around. "Hi! We're doing quite well… but decided that cooking was far too much effort tonight. How're you?"

"Oh, I'm fine. This is my family, by the way," she said, indicating the politely smiling people behind her.

"My dad, John, my mum, Sue, and my brother, Thomas. It's his birthday today – that's why we're here – he's turning eight. This is Jane," she said, turning to her family. "I told you, remember? She's new to town. With her uncle."

"Pleased to meet you," Hermione said to them all. "This is my uncle, Alexander," she introduced him, trying not to laugh at the look on his face. "He said it would be fine for me to meet up with you this weekend, by the way."

"Great! Well, we'd better be off. I'll see you then!"

"Yes. Bye!" she told her. Melissa grinned and followed her father and brother to their table. Sue remained.

"It's nice to meet you, Jane, Alexander. We've been here all our lives, so if there's anything you need, I'll be more than happy to help. Settling in must be difficult. In fact… here, why don't I give you my address? Melissa told me you didn't have a phone." If she thought that strange, she didn't let on. She took out a piece of paper and began scribbling on it.

"Thank you, madam," Snape said a little stiffly, "but we are settling in fine. I do not think-"

"It's got to be hard, to be so suddenly without a wife and sister like that," Sue said sympathetically, ignoring his attempts to get rid of her. "It might be nice for you to meet some people… tell you what, I'll arrange a housewarming for you! There are a couple of people I'm sure you'd love to meet – you're a teacher, aren't you? If you're looking for a job at the school, perhaps I can pull a couple of strings. Anyway, I'll contact a couple of people and let you meet everyone. Oh, look! It seems they're all waiting for me over there," and she gave Snape the paper with her address on it, "I'll drop by the evening after tomorrow if you're not busy, and bring a couple of people for you to meet. You'll get on quite well with my husband, I think; he doesn't talk much either, but he's very interested in history; I'm sure you'll get on really well!" And with that, she smiled at both of them and left to her own table. Snape looked shocked.

"She was nice," Hermione commented.

He just glared at her. "I have no words," he told her severely, "to describe what has just occurred. _None _of this will get back to Potter and Weasley when we return to Hogwarts. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly, Professor," Hermione told him. Again, she wished she had a camera with her. She was really beginning to like Melissa's mother.


	7. Chapter Seven

**A/N This is unbeta'd purely because I'm too impatient to wait, so excuse any mistakes. Pauline-the-wonderful-beta has given me loads of ideas, and I can't wait to write them up! Sadly, I'm going to have to (I have about half an hour of free time a day, no exaggerations), but I'll write what I can as soon as I can. This didn't come out on Sunday purely because I realised just how short this chapter is and decided to add another 2 ½ pages of text to what was already there. So you get a long chapter this time! Please R/R, and I hope you all like it.**

Hermione knew she had a problem of saying the first thing that came to mind, heedless of consequences. She had, over the years, managed a little forethought, most of the time, but she still managed to say things that probably ought to have been left unsaid, often in times of stress. This last weekend had been very stressful, and she had definitely said quite a few things that she should not have done. Snape seemed to have forgiven her, and she didn't regret what she had felt, but she did think that she probably ought to apologise. For the sake of peace, if nothing else.

So… "Professor?"

Snape just looked at her, and then said, "I thought we'd established, _Jane_, that my name is Alexander. I wish for you to get into the habit of calling me in such a way."

"Of course, Uncle Alexander," she told him, now with no desire to apologise but quite enjoying her newfound hobby of subtle Snape-baiting.

He looked distinctly uncomfortable, but merely said, "Quite. You wished to say something?"

"Yes," she prevaricated. "I… wanted to ask you if I could get a job," she told him, off the top of her head.

Snape looked completely shocked. "You wish to work? In the muggle world? On top of all of your studies and everything else?"

He had quite a talent for stating the obvious, but she refrained from saying as much. She was asking another favour, and being polite generally seemed to help when she was doing that. "Yes, Alexander. I thought it would get me out of the house, so I wouldn't feel so cooped up, and it would give you some time alone."

"I… see."

"Well, Professor? Could I get a job?"

"Exactly _what_ kind of job?" he asked her pointedly.

"I don't know, exactly. Just something to get me out of the house… part time, of course, and something that doesn't require special skills. A summer job, if you like, only not over the summer. Maybe tutoring, or waitressing, or something."

"_Waitressing_?" Hermione winced – he had rather unfortunate timing, as a waitress had come up behind him as they were speaking, and put his plate down as he said it. She put Hermione's down, too, rather more forcefully than was necessary.

"Yes, Pro- Uncle." She rather thought she might have slipped a while ago, but Snape didn't seem to have noticed. "Um, I think you might have offended that waitress, too."

He gave a peremptory shrug, wordlessly saying "so?" Hermione suddenly got an idea. She grinned mischievously.

"Uncle Alexander? You really can't afford to offend people here. If you offend the waitress, she'll talk to her friends, and they'll talk to their friends, and pretty soon everybody will have heard of us. The stories will get exaggerated and we'll find living here really hard."

"It's a little late to rectify the damages now, Jane," he retorted sharply, but he did seem a little worried.

"No, it's not really. In fact, muggles recover from that sort of thing quite easily, if you apologise properly. But if you apologise in the wrong way… well, you could make things worse."

Hermione was enjoying herself as Snape, again, looked distinctly uncomfortable. "How would I do that?" he asked cautiously.

"Well…" she was hard-pressed to keep from laughing as she outlined the way in which he ought to apologise. This ought to be adequate revenge for all the taunts he had thrown her way, and he wouldn't even know she had taken it.

The rest of the meal passed in an awkward silence. Snape made no attempts to break it, and Hermione could not think of anything to say, so they remained quiet for a while. They finished, and Snape paid for the meal with a fifty pound note, telling the waitress that she could keep the change as a tip. A surreptitious kick under the table from Hermione (who earned a glare in response to that), and he stiffly asked if he could speak with her for a moment outside. The waitress, Sarah according to her nametag, agreed with a kind of cautious curiosity, and Hermione trooped after them as Snape left the table, Sarah in tow.

Snape shooed Hermione away, but she had been expecting that and so cast a charm to allow herself to hear what it is they were saying before she walked a little way away, grinning in anticipation.

"I fear, lady," Snape began, "that I have offended you grievously. My niece, whom I do not wish to work but rather to stay at school, surprised me when she suggested a career in the culinary business, and I reacted without thought. Against, indeed, my own personal code of beliefs. I myself was a waiter as I worked my way through University."

Who would have thought that Snape could apologise so eloquently, Hermione wondered. True, she had coached him on what to say, but this way with words was quite surprising. She resolved, then and there, to begin to keep a diary, so she would be able to look back on this and laugh. She hoped.

Snape, however, wasn't finished – as Hermione knew quite well. She had, after all, told him what to say and do.

"And so, Sarah – if I may call you that? – I wish to reiterate my sincere apologies and suggest that, as undeserving of the honour as I am, you accompany me to dinner tomorrow night, where I can go further towards making amends.

Hermione wondered objectively whether or not Sarah would slap him (because who would believe that apology was sincere?), or simply walk off. So she was extremely surprised when Sarah repeated, a little breathlessly, "Of course! I knew you didn't mean harm by it… I'd love to go to dinner with you!" The shock very quickly turned into amusement, though, as Snape accepted, and was forced to do so gracefully.

It was not until all the details had been sorted out and Snape caught up with Hermione that she began to worry about her own personal safety. Snape did not look pleased with the turn of events, although she suspected that he would not have allowed Sarah to see those emotions, and Hermione was afraid that he might have seen through her trick. He said nothing, however, merely glared at her as they began the walk back to the house.

As sneezes and bad luck tended to come in threes, so did events that evening. On the way back to the house, Snape was distracted enough to bump into two different people, both women a few years older than Hermione. He apologised to each of them the way he had to Sarah, and invited them each to dinner on Friday and Saturday night.

Hermione was so shocked by the fact that they seemed to be flattered and had accepted his invitations to dinner, Friday and Saturday night respectively, with profuse giggling, that she tripped on no less than three tree roots. The third such time, Professor Snape asked snidely, after having lunged forward again to protect her from crashing face-first into the ground, "What is so difficult about the act of walking that you seem incapable of it despite the proficiency most four year olds have achieved?"

"Nothing, Professor," she responded a little haughtily. "It's just dark, and this road is unfamiliar. Why don't we just Apparate like we did earlier?" she asked him.

Although it was probably just a trick of the moonlight, Snape seemed slightly uncomfortable. "We should not have Apparated before. The danger of discovery by muggles is too great, and the ministry does not like those under the Fidelius apparating, because it cannot be reliably traced."

Hermione nodded. "I guess that makes sense. Emergencies only, then?"

"I see no need to repeat myself, Miss Granger. We will walk to and from the town when we need to."

"As you will every day for the rest of the week, except tomorrow," Hermione added blandly. "Perhaps we ought to buy you a motorbike to save your poor legs."


	8. Chapter Eight

**A/N I know this is getting to be a regular occurrence and I'm really sorry for that… but time seems to fly, and now I have exams coming up and I _will _have to study for them this year, sadly. Basically, my apologies for the delay in this chapter, and even more apologies for what will likely be another long delay. I have next weekend to write, but if I don't get a chapter posted by then (a 50 chance) then I won't be writing anything until about the third week of June. Sorry. Now here's this chapter… hope you like it!**

The mental image of Snape as a biker caused her to laugh, and that distraction caused her to trip on yet another tree root. Snape, as he had done the previous three times, lunged forward and caught her.

"I am beginning to tire of this, Miss… Jane. I know fully well that you are perfectly capable of walking. The distance is not great and you have no apparent physical disabilities, so why is it that you insist on continually stumbling?"

"Because, _Uncle Alexander_, it's dark and I can't see."

"Neither can I," he retorted, "Yet I seem to be managing adequately." He still had a grip on her arm, and she tried to pull free. "I think not. I do not wish to have to take you to a muggle hospital; neither do I wish to heal you myself."

He kept his bruising grip on her arm all the way back to the house. While she did not stumble again, Hermione was decidedly annoyed with him. They arrived back and he undid all of his wards to allow them entrance. Snape let go of her arm when he stepped inside (she noticed that he did not hold the door open for her), and commenced re-warding the front door.

"We will not go outside again tonight," he informed her peremptorily. "Should you wish to go outside tomorrow morning-"

"I'll leave you a note before I break the wards," she interrupted him.

"I doubt you'll be able to do so," he informed her coldly. "You forget who you are dealing with, Miss Granger. Your opinion of yourself is far higher than it ought to be. Perhaps it comes from the inadequacy of those with whom you associate – your peers would certainly inspire in one such as yourself delusions of intelligence." She opened her mouth furiously to retort, but he cut her off, "I assume you have finished your homework," he said. "We shall go over it in the morning. Good night, Miss Granger."

He knew full bloody well that she had not even _started _the work he had assigned her. He had been with her all afternoon! Biting down her angry replies, Hermione said, "Of course, Professor. Good night." She would do the homework tonight if she had to stay up all night to do so. Damn the man.

The next day did not dawn bright and sunny. It was raining heavily. When she came downstairs, Hermione was shocked to see Snape brewing coffee in the kitchen looking, if she dared to believe her eyes, cheerful! She eyed him suspiciously, debating whether or not to ask him why he was looking so happy. She decided against it, and he surprised her a second time in as many minutes.

"Would you like coffee, Miss Granger?"

"Uh… yes please, Professor." He had offered her coffee. And he was smiling – at least, she presumed that the strange twist to his mouth was a smile. It could, she supposed, have been a nervous twitch, but the image of Snape _nervous_ was rather more unsettling than that of him happy.

He poured her a cup and handed it to her. She accepted and sipped slowly, trying not to outwardly convey her shock. Snape, apparently in a conversational mood as well as a cheerful one, said,

"It's such a pity about the weather, isn't it?" Hermione choked on her coffee, the scalding liquid burning the back of her throat.

"I beg your pardon, sir?" she asked, when she could finally breathe properly.

"I was remarking on the weather. It appears that it will storm all day." He smirked at her.

"Yes, sir," she ventured, wondering if he was sick. Should she take him to a muggle hospital, or was this some kind of magical malady?

"It appears that I won't be able to meet that waitress tonight as we had planned. Such a shame." _And he sounds so sincere_, she thought with amusement. At least this explained his strange exuberant mood.

"You can't cancel, sir, because we can't call her to tell her – we don't have a phone. And if you don't turn up she'll be extremely offended." _Hah_.

"But there is obviously no way I could possibly walk to town in this weather," he told her. "It seems that I have no choice but to remain here."

"Respectfully, sir," she told him, lying without compunction, "You can't blow her off. If you do that the whole town will know – waitresses gossip – and you'll get a reputation and everyone will be talking about us. We can't afford that." _Which is all so much bull, really_, she reflected, _but he seems to be buying it. Perhaps he believes that I wouldn't dare lie to him_?

"How then, Miss Granger," he asked snidely, apparently having reverted to his usual mood, "Do you propose I get to town in this weather?"

"You could walk, professor. You might get a little wet, but it shouldn't be too bad. And this way Sarah will know that you really do mean your apology." _And she'll be really touched that he walked all the way in the rain for her_, she thought smugly. _Revenge is sweet_. It was unimportant that she could not remember quite what it was that she was exacting revenge from him for – his general unpleasantness alone warranted it.

Snape glared at her and swept from the room. Hermione waited until she heard the door from the living room slam before she burst into laughter.

Morning 'classes' with Snape were as unpleasant as any Potions class at Hogwarts, but at least this morning he seemed to be refraining from criticising the teaching styles of the other teachers. _Perhaps he doesn't want a repeat of last night_, she thought with amusement.

Dumbledore's reply owls arrived as they were finishing lunch. There were three of them, and they each held rather large packets. Hermione wasted no time in ripping them open despite Snape's disapproving glance. The first packet held a letter from Dumbledore and assorted paperwork that had to be handed into the ministry to allow Hermione to take her NEWTs, the second held a suggested syllabus for the rest of the year, and the third contained NEWT papers from last year.

"You seem to have little consideration for the fact that those packages are labelled with my name," Snape told her with no real malice. "It is considered extremely impolite to open another person's mail."

Hermione was too engrossed to notice the lack of annoyance in his voice, much less to notice that he sounded vaguely amused.

"Sorry," she muttered absently.

Hermione looked up from the papers an hour later, to find that Snape had left the table, and probably not recently. She collected the papers together and went off to find him, not noticing that he had cleared not only his own place but hers as well.

Snape had taken her favourite armchair and was reading some kind of thick novel. He put it down as she approached, and raised an eyebrow at her. "You have decided to remove your nose from the papers the headmaster sent to me, then?" he enquired.

"Briefly," she responded, flashing him a grin before suddenly realising with a jolt who she was talking with. Blushing a little, she hastily added, "I was coming to ask your permission, sir, to do the practice exams. I'd like to see where I am, what I have to catch up with before I take them…"

Snape sighed. "You wish to take the practice exams now?"

"Yes, sir," she replied. _Redundancy. If it'd be me, he would've snapped at me. _"May I?" she added, when he did not reply.

"Yes, Miss Granger, you may. On one condition."

"What condition, sir?" she asked him with trepidation.

"My dinner with that waitress tonight," he told her. Then, choosing his words carefully, "I am unaware as to what muggle custom dictates as my choice of apparel in a casual meal as such." It took a few seconds for Hermione to unravel the sentence to catch its meaning. Then, suddenly, she found herself with the barely-controllable urge to laugh hysterically. Snape _didn't know what to wear_!


	9. Chapter Nine

**A/N I'm afraid finals and then a trip to England got in the way of posting this chapter… I had half of it finished before I left, and then I was stuck in the New Forest (a very nice place, if you like horses) without a computer, leaving me unable to write anything over the past month and a bit. I'm really sorry about the wait, and if you're still with me, thank you for not giving up. I'm going to edit this for mistakes, post it, and then sit down and write the next chapter immediately. Again… _really, _really sorry. Forgive me!**

After Hermione's giggles had subsided, and Snape's scowl had reached epic proportions, she finally went upstairs to look through his closet. Snape was extremely reluctant to let her into his room, but he did not have much choice after she pointed out that she would need to see what clothes he had for her to be able to help him. He reluctantly opened the wardrobe door, and Hermione momentarily felt like she had gone blind.

"You don't own any clothes that aren't black?" she asked him.

"No," he said shortly.

"Right. Um… okay, what muggle clothes do you have?"

"Those I've been wearing into town."

"That's all you have?" she asked in disbelief.

"Is there a problem with your hearing, Miss Granger?" he asked her in a dangerously low voice.

"Not at all, professor. Repetition of a phrase that comes as a surprise to the one who hears it is in fact a common occurrence in general conversation," she told him. Not wishing to start another argument, she said quickly, "I think we'll have to transfigure something for you. All black is good sometimes, but you probably don't want the town thinking you're a Goth. I don't know, maybe you do, but we should probably add a touch of a different colour, if nothing else." _And it wouldn't do to look like you're still in mourning on your date this evening, _she added to herself.

Snape glared at her.

"Okay, black it is," she said hastily. "Umm… let's see. You've got the pair of black trousers… how about jeans? Then maybe a short-sleeved shirt, much more casual. Hmm. Can I transfigure one of your robes, sir?"

"This one," Snape said, drawing one that looked identical to at least five of his others from the wardrobe. "If you must," he added. Hermione rolled her eyes and took the robe from him.

"I'll need another one, too," she told him. "Unless you're willing for me to cut this in half, that is." He silently handed her a second robe. "Thank you." With a frown at the material, Hermione took out her wand and swished it experimentally. It shrunk to short sleeved plain black shirt. Another swish and the hems were sewn in silver. He raised an eyebrow at her but did not comment, so Hermione left it as it was. She smiled to herself… she would have him wearing grey in no time. Somehow, however, she doubted she would be able to get him to wear anything brighter. Like blue. Or hot pink. That vision made her smile widen, and Snape glared at her.

"Just thinking," she told him amiably. "Now for the jeans…"

Getting the material to change to denim took some work, but once that was done it was relatively easy to charm the colour black. The conventional pockets and seams were difficult to do, but in the end they looked as if they had been bought in a conventional muggle shop. With a grin, Hermione added a brand name, too. Then, deciding she might as well go all the way into her little venture into piracy, she added the polo symbol to the shirt, in red. Snape's other eyebrow went up, but he still refrained from commenting. Hermione was rather impressed at his restraint.

"I've finished, sir. Why don't you try it on, and then I'll make any adjustments."

"Very well, Miss Granger." She nodded and turned to leave the room. "I thought you wished to make adjustments, Miss Granger?" he asked. She turned, and saw him wearing the clothes she had just transfigured.

"How…" she began, and Snape smirked at her.

"Magic, Miss Granger. The reason for the last six years of your schooling."

She chose to ignore that comment, and instead critically eyed his clothes. The shirt could do with being a little larger, an adjustment she made easily enough. The jeans were a little strange. Summoning to mind a memory of Harry's jeans last summer, she made the necessary adjustments. _Much better_, she thought approvingly. _I wonder what he'd say if he knew I used Harry's clothes as a model?_ she thought idly. _Then again, _she reflected, _he'd be even angrier if I based his clothes on Dudley's cast-offs _before _I shrunk them to fit Harry better_.

"Have you finished, Miss Granger?" Snape asked sourly. She realised that she had been staring at his legs for quite a while, and blushed slightly.

"I think so, Professor. Now, your hair…"

"What about my hair, Miss Granger?" he asked in a dangerously calm voice.

"It's quite long, really. Have you considered tying it in a ponytail?"

"No."

"Perhaps you should."

"Why, Miss Granger? While I can see that you are enjoying dressing me up as a child would a favourite doll, I fail to see any humour in this situation. I believe I am muggle enough. I thank you, but that will be all." Hermione looked at him, considering. Perhaps it was time to admit defeat, at least for the day. She smirked. _The ponytail, nose piercing, and tattoo can wait for later._

"Okay, Professor," she told him.

He eyed her suspiciously. She gave him what she hoped was an innocent look but, judging from his narrowing eyes, was probably not as innocent as she had thought.

"I'll be going, then, professor. You might like to leave fairly soon since you'll be walking all the way there in the rain. Enjoy your…" she considered saying 'date,' but decided that her life would be safer if she did not. "…evening," she finished.

"Yes, Miss Granger."

"Jane, uncle," she reminded him with a grin, and then fled the room, deciding that she had already pushed her luck enough today. She would take the Charms practice exam paper one this evening, she decided, have dinner, and then sit down to the second exam. Humming contentedly to herself, Hermione closed the door to her room and began searching for a pen.

Severus Snape, meanwhile, was decidedly put out. He wondered morosely whether or not he was losing his touch. She hadn't even been afraid of him! She'd been sharing a house with him, and today she had dared to actually _tease _him. Glaring at his foreign reflecting in the mirror, he allowed himself a weary sigh before trudging down the stairs and out the door. Buffeted by the rain, he began the long trip to town.


	10. Chapter Ten

**A/N Thanks for your reviews! I'm honestly surprised that anyone's still reading this after I've taken so long to post… and I'm really grateful to all of you who commented. As to the raincoat… well, Hermione's still exacting her revenge on him. She figures Snape wouldn't know about either raincoats or jackets, but… this is where I shut up before I start giving away too much 'plot.' Yes, believe it or not, there actually is one… although that's not actually the main plot… oh dear. I'll shut up now. Here's the chapter, thanks for reviewing, and please review this chapter too? Hope you enjoy it!**

By the time Snape arrived in town, he was thoroughly pissed off. Not only was he soaked through, but he had seen no less than four muggles out in the rain wearing some kind of bright yellow coat that _repelled water_. It was probably lucky that Hermione wasn't there with him, he reflected, because if she had been he would have killed the girl. _Slowly_, he thought with a malicious smile, _and very painfully_. He was, thankfully, fifteen minutes early for his dinner with Sarah. With luck she would not yet be there, and he would be able to surreptitiously cast a couple of drying charms.

Luck, of course, was not with him, as Snape realised when he entered the restaurant and saw Sarah sitting at a table towards the front, biting her lip. He would have to sit through the entire meal soaking wet. He forced a smile as he approached her, and kissed her proffered hand awkwardly.

"Good evening, Sarah," he said, no less awkwardly, and sat down.

"Good evening, Alexander. Did you… you're all wet! Why are you all wet?"

"It's raining outside," he snapped. And then, realising that he ought perhaps to be less terse unless he wanted to have to apologise and sit through another meal again, "I walked from my house in the rain."

"How far away do you live?" she asked in shock.

"I live in the forest."

"In _that _house! And you walked all the way in the rain!" Was it the lighting or was she looking… pleased about something?

"I did," Snape admitted. Then, casting around for something to say and vaguely remembering her prattle from the evening before, he asked, "You have a son, don't you?"

"Daniel! Yes, he's just turned three. You remembered from last night?"

Snape forced another smile and nodded. This evening, he felt, would be a long one.

By the time they had finished the dessert course, Snape had learnt that Sarah Watson was a twenty-six year-old single mother of one Daniel Jacob Watson, the light of her life and the most adorable child ever to grace the planet. She had been working in the restaurant for the past two years while taking night classes in medieval history and, for some reason unfathomable to Snape, musical history and theory. She loved singing and playing the piano, she read murder mysteries in her free time, and she talked _non-stop_. Snape had found out that murmuring 'understandingly,' giving sympathetic glances, and occasionally nodding his head seemed to be received extremely well, and so proceeded to do just that throughout the meal. The few times she had tried to engage him in conversation he had swiftly steered the subject back to her, and listened in a manner that she apparently considered encouraging. At last she finished her chocolate mousse, and Snape decided that he could probably finally get away.

"It's been a pleasant evening, Sarah," Snape lied smoothly, "and I thank you for agreeing to come. I'm afraid I must take my leave, however; my niece is home alone and I feel that I really cannot justify staying away any longer as we're new to the town."

"Of, of course! I've kept you so long!" The she looked at him through lowered lashes. "Will I see you again?" she asked shyly.

"I expect I shall run into you again at the restaurant in the near future," Snape answered, surprised and slightly confused – it was, after all, a small town. It would be almost impossible to _not _see her again. "And now I really must go. Thank you for an excellent evening," he lied again, "and I now bid you farewell. Good evening, Sarah." With that, he kissed her hand once more and left the table, blissfully unaware that Sarah was watching him leave, completely smitten.

A quick stop in a dark alley left Snape with a vaguely muggle-style raincoat and an umbrella that, by all the laws of physics, should not have worked but managed to do so anyway. Then he made the journey back to the house, considerably dryer and much more cheerfully.

Hermione was finishing her dinner in front of the fire and checking the answers to her Charms practise NEWT when Snape returned. She looked up as he entered, and choked on a mouthful of salad when she saw the bright yellow… _thing _he had donned to keep of the rain. In response to her spluttering, Snape raised an eyebrow.

"I transfigured the waterproof to look like those the muggles were wearing to town today. Far more practical than the clothes I was wearing earlier, don't you agree?" he asked in a deceptively calm tone of voice.

"Ih," she squeaked. As his second eyebrow rose to match the first, Hermione swallowed, coughed, and tried again. "Yes, sir," she managed. "But… I hadn't thought… that is…"

"'You hadn't thought,'" he repeated. "That much is obvious."

"But… it's yellow, sir!"

"As are all the muggles' coats."

"But… you… black…" Hermione was having trouble getting the words out when faced with Snape, a vision in canary yellow.

"I see your isolation has rendered you incoherent," Snape "I am most displeased that you saw fit not to provide me with a raincoat this evening."

_He's gone all autocratic again_, Hermione thought grumpily, suddenly not at all at a loss for words. Then, _oh, what the hell, what can he do to me if I say it?_ "You're back to your usual dictatorial self, I see, _sir_. I assume your evening went well?"

"_Dictatorial_?" he spat. Hermione saw an argument looming, and suddenly felt herself looking forward to it. Yelling at Snape was strangely… well, _fun_.

"Yes, dictatorial! And righteous, too. I was wondering how long you'd last before you started snapping at me as if I were an errant three-year-old." Hermione suspected that she probably shouldn't answer back, but she was not going to take anything from Snape. They were living together, here, and she had no intentions of allowing him to treat her as if she was an idiot. Or, for that matter, a slave.

Snape glared at her, took a deep breath, and slowly let it out. Calmly, he said, "We will not be having this argument a second time in the space of two days. I'll talk with you tomorrow, in the hopes that you act in a manner _slightly _more fitting to a person of your age." He swept out of the room, somehow managing to convey an impression of billowing robes dressed even as he was in jeans and a shirt.

Hermione sunk into a chair, and put her head in her hands. _Why do I suddenly feel guilty?_ She asked herself. _He had it coming to him. I've _told _him I'm not going to be treated as a house-elf. _Suddenly, she was on the verge of tears. _Having nobody but Snape for company for three days does that to you_, Hermione reflected, stifling a sob. _Why am I behaving so differently here? If Harry and Ron could see me now, _she thought, and the sob turned into a watery smile. _They'd be shocked. _She wondered what her parents would think of her, and suddenly felt like crying once more. She didn't normally miss her parents in term time, but this enforced isolation with Snape was doing strange things to her emotions. _It's a pity I can't blame it on PMS, really_, she reflected, _because that would account for all this strange behaviour. Maybe it's a reaction to such an extreme change in circumstances_. Mentally adding 'buy a psychology textbook' to her list of things to do, Hermione sat back in her chair and took up her Charms paper and answer sheet once more.

Snape, upstairs, was doing some thinking of his own. Hermione had changed rather drastically from the person he had thought her to be at school, and he didn't like the change. On the one hand, it was reassuring to find out that she did, in fact, have a personality, and was capable of doing more than regurgitating textbooks. On the other, he was extremely unused to being contradicted or challenged in any way, and Hermione was doing so on a daily basis. _And, _he thought, feeling an emotion akin to panic, _she's not afraid of me_. He wondered when that had happened; certainly she had been afraid of him that first day they had moved in. When had the change occurred? Shaking his head, he thought through his options. He would either have to thoroughly intimidate her again, and bring back the fear, or accede to her requests. Would it be so difficult to treat her as an equal? _Yes! _was his immediate response, but, with a mental discipline that was surprising, he thought through the consequences. There would be no arguments, save the mundane day-to-day details they differed on – house-elves, for one. Then again, he would be treating a _nineteen-year-old girl_ as his equal. She was inexperienced, garrulous, downright irritating, naïve, and extremely inexperienced in the many ways… and yet, she had intelligence, and a spark of life that was strangely refreshing. After debating internally with himself for a long time, Snape reached a decision. She had, after all, invented a number of charms. He would treat her as a colleague. _Which, _he reflected with a smirk, _did not necessarily mean an equal._

Suddenly, from downstairs, he heard a crash and a shriek. Immediately whipping his wand out, he was halfway to the door when he heard thundering up the stairs. He eased his door open carefully, marginally, and caught a glimpse of brown hair flying towards him. He stepped back, eyes wide in alarm, before realising that Hermione was actually sprinting up the stairs towards her own bedroom, her face split wide in a huge grin. Catching a glimpse of the papers she was holding, the first of which had "206" written at the top in red, he allowed himself a small smile and gently closed the door. Hermione, it seemed, had not remained angry for long.

In a surprisingly good mood, for no reason that he could fathom, Snape decided to go to bed early that evening. They would be busy tomorrow, making the house muggle-friendly for the muggle welcoming contingent tomorrow. Still with a small smile on his face, Snape muttered "Nox."

**A/N I'm afraid this chapter wasn't very interesting… and sorry for that, but I had it written and I thought, since you had to wait so long for the last update, I might as well just post it and start worrying about the other chapters. I actually do have a plot, believe it or not… there's a _lot _more to come… chapter-wise, too, because these chapters are much shorter than those I generally write in other stories. Anyway, I'm going to shut up now and let you review… because I know you want to. Thanks in advance (I'm being optimistic here), and hopefully I'll update again much sooner than last time. **


	11. Chapter Eleven

**A/N I need to thank Emma for asking about Hermione's middle name… I hadn't realised that it's definitely Jane in canon, but I've made the correction now… so if you're wondering why she's not calling herself Marie now, you know. I've now also gone back and changed it, so hopefully nobody will get confused… if you see one I've missed, please tell me. I'm posting this chapter unbeta'd again, because I'm so happy with myself at the frequent updates that I thought I'd make use of it as much as possible. I'll repost this chapter after it's been beta'd; hopefully there won't be too many major changes. I have another two chapters written, and I'll post them over the next two weeks… hopefully giving me time to write at least a little more. IB really sucks. Thanks to all of you who have reviewed. Enjoy.**

Hermione woke early the next morning, and decided to make reparations for her argument last night by cooking breakfast – a decision made more because she was in a good mood than out of any guilt over her treatment of her professor. She had just finished cooking and serving an extremely unhealthy meal of fried eggs, fried bread, fried tomato, and sausages when Snape, showing excellent timing, made an appearance downstairs. With a cheerful smile that would have put Mary Poppins to shame, Hermione indicated the table.

"Good morning, sir. I've just cooked breakfast."

"So I can see," he replied. He sat at what had become his place without thanks, but waited for Hermione to seat herself before beginning to eat. Seeing as his good manners in the latter made up for his bad manners in not thanking her, Hermione decided not to spoil the day already by making sarcastic remarks. Instead, she sat down and began to eat her breakfast, surreptitiously watching Snape.

His eyes widened in surprise and appreciation as he ate the first mouthful, and Hermione smirked to herself. She had obviously not lost her touch with cooking, despite the years at Hogwarts leaving her slightly out of practise. With a jolt, she thought of Harry and Ron, and wondered what they would be doing right now. Eating breakfast too, probably, she thought sadly to herself. This homesickness kept hitting her at the strangest of times. Trying to shake herself out of her sudden melancholy, she said,

"So how was your evening last night, sir?"

He raised an eyebrow at her attempted small talk, but replied nonetheless, "Prior to our argument, quite passable. I have no desire to repeat the experience any time soon, however."

"I'm afraid you're going to have to, sir. Tomorrow night, in fact."

"My memory is not bad enough to warrant reminding of that fact, Miss Granger," Snape said sharply.

"Yes, sir. I mean, Alexander. Uhm… we really should try using our new names, ah, Alexander. If we slip up in public…"

"I never slip up," he told her stiffly. Then he grudgingly added, "However, it might be prudent for us to make use of our middle names in order to become familiar with doing so. Very well, Jane. I will remind you that we will have this morning off from lessons. Do you wish to go into town?"

"Not particularly," Hermione said, pleasantly surprised. She had forgotten that they would have Thursday mornings off. "Um… you do remember that Melissa's Mum is going to bring a group of people over here tonight, don't you?"

"Of course."

"Well, we might want to make the house more, ah, muggle-friendly. If they come in here and don't see light switches and things, they're going to be very suspicious. Also, I think many of them are going to want a tour of the house. We're going to have to either hide or disguise all the obviously magical stuff. Maybe we should do that this morning."

"Very well, Jane. I might suggest that we make a start on that this now, then."

"'kay." Seeing that she had finished, Snape surprised her yet again by stacking her plate on top of his own and putting her glass in his before taking them both into the kitchen. Hermione watched, mouth open, as he pointed his wand at the plates and said "Scourgify," before repeated the procedure on the cutlery and glasses. She immediately felt embarrassed; she had spent the last three days washing everything up by hand out of habit. She frantically cast back her memory, trying to figure out whether he had seen her doing that, and whether he was likely to mock her for doing so. Instead, he merely raised an eyebrow at her. She realised that she was still standing with her mouth open, and promptly shut it.

"Shall we begin with this room, then?" he asked.

"Of course. Um… Well, we need a light-switch for one." She glanced up. "And a light bulb." Hermione busied herself at the wall, and had soon transfigured part of the wallpaper into a light-switch that flipped up and down. Turning around, she was surprised to see that Snape had finished crafting a surprisingly accurate bulb from the ceiling, and was standing back admiring his work. He turned and glanced at her.

"Does it meet with your approval?" he asked. Hermione, uncertain as to whether or not he was mocking her but deciding that he probably was, simply nodded.

"Perhaps you can charm them so that it glows when the switch is facing up, sir?"

"Of course." A few moments later, he had done so.

They went from room to room, adding light switches that gave the appearance of working and power points that would do absolutely nothing. She cast attention detracting charms on all the books in the living room's bookshelves that had anything to do with magic (about half of them), and then went upstairs to do the same to her bedroom. She was thankful that there were no paintings on the walls, because making the people within them stay still would have been impossible.

When the house had been made muggle-friendly, it was time for lunch. Snape surprised Hermione yet again by offering to make the lunch. He was actually pretty competent at making the sandwiches, too, something that surprised Hermione greatly. Had he learnt to do that from watching her, she wondered, or had he known all along and had just let her do all the work? Deciding to keep a closer eye on Snape in the future, she accepted her sandwich from him with a word of thanks.

Snape surprised Hermione yet again during their lunch by breaking the silence. "What exactly is going to happen tonight at this… housewarming?" he asked, repeating the word that Sue had used as if it left a nasty taste in his mouth.

"I suspect a lot of people will turn up with food or small gifts to help us settle in. Then they'll stay and talk for a few hours, look around the house, and just… gather. We might want to construct our cover story more thoroughly though. Oh! We'll probably have to feed them, too." Momentarily forgetting Snape, she rushed into the kitchen, looking through the cupboards to see what they had.

Snape followed her into the kitchen with their plates, taking care to keep the amused smile from his lips.

"We don't have anything!" she told him. "They'll expect food of some sort… crisps, fruit maybe, cake, biscuits… come to think of it, we're also running pretty low on milk and I used up the rest of the eggs this morning. And getting in some frozen food would probably be a good idea. Actually we should also…" she trailed off, muttering to herself.

Snape raised an eyebrow, still fighting the smile. "It seems another trip to the supermarket is in order, then. Shall we leave now? What time will the muggles arrive?"

"You'll have to stop referring to them as muggles," she commented, "considering we'll probably be seeing a lot of them."

"One moment," he said sharply. "'Seeing a lot of them?'"

Hermione glanced at her watch. "Can we have this argument later, please? They could be here in less than four hours, and we need to shop and put things away and set out food and make up a cover story…"

"Then we will leave now."

Hermione eyed his robes. "You're going to have to transfigure yourself some more muggle clothes," she told him. "In fact, better yet, we'll go shopping next weekend. We can go into London… the ministry's financing us, after all. Why don't you get changed, and then we can go."

Snape raised an eyebrow at her. "You're becoming extremely familiar, Miss Granger. I do realise that I will need to change before I leave the house."

Hermione blushed. "Yes, sir. Alexander, that is. Okay. Um… okay. I'll wait down here."

Snape merely raised his eyebrow a second time and left the room, robes swirling. Hermione sighed. She had no idea what to make of the man. He seemed determined to keep her off-balance. _Still_, she thought, brightening, _I'll meet Melissa in a few hours, and maybe some of her friends, too_.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**A/N Again, thank you **_so_ **much for the reviews! I can't say how happy they make me… really! Again, another chapter that's relatively on time compared to my usual update schedule… but this is the last of the pre-written chapters. I hope I'll have the next finished by next weekend, but I can't make any promises. Again, unbeta'd… but I'll repost after betaing. Enjoy!**

Hermione separated herself from her book as she heard the doorbell ring. Her stomach suddenly jumping, she realised that Melissa and her family must have arrived. She put the book back in the bookshelf, shouted up the stairs for Snape to come down, and then opened the door somewhat nervously. Small talk had never been Hermione's forte, and while she definitely enjoyed company and talking to people, talking to people she barely knew was always a little intimidating. She was suddenly disabused of that fear when Sue enveloped her in a hug and began a barrage of conversation. She was, Hermione decided, startlingly reminiscent of Molly Weasley.

"So good to see you, dear! I brought a cake for this afternoon; where should I put it? The whole family came, and of course a couple of friends too. I thought you'd like to meet new people – it's always good to meet people when you're new in town."

"Oh… thanks," Hermione managed. Then, remembering her manners, "Please come in. It's great to see you again." She stepped back, and saw that behind Sue were at least ten other people. Thankfully, Melissa was one of them, and she smiled at her. Melissa grinned, and rolled her eyes behind her mother's back. Sue was still talking.

"This is such a lovely house! I've been wondering who would buy it; I mean, it's so far away from everywhere but it's just gorgeous and… oh my, is this your kitchen! Wow, very nice… have you had it all redone? Lovely bench tops, and ooh, a tiled floor? I keep telling John that he should get ours redone but he simply won't listen…"

By this time, Snape had arrived downstairs and was eyeing Sue warily. Melissa was shaking with suppressed giggles. "Hi, Alexander," she managed around her laughter.

"Oh, I didn't see you there!" Sue said. She put the cake on the table and rounded on Snape, who, to his credit, only flinched slightly. She beamed at him and kissed both cheeks, which he bore with a strangely emotionless face.

"Here, you simply _must _meet these people. You know John, Melissa, and Thomas, of course. Then this is Joseph Stirling, manager of the local supermarket, Anna Stirling, Mary Heyburn, Felicity Richardson…" Hermione lost track of the barrage of names, but smiled at all as they were introduced. Most seemed to be about the same age as Melissa's parents, but she noticed that Melissa was standing with two people about Hermione's age, who she soon learned were Danielle, Melissa's best friend, and Jacob, Melissa's boyfriend. When everybody had been introduced, Snape surprised Hermione by courteously inviting them all into the living room. Hermione, in turn, offered drinks, and was met with a request for thirteen cups of tea. Melissa, Danielle, and Jacob followed Hermione into the kitchen.

"Would you like something to drink?" she asked, feeling suddenly uncomfortable.

"Anything but tea," Melissa said, laughing. "Sorry about Mum… she can be a bit overwhelming sometimes."

"It's very kind of her to bring everyone here, though," Hermione said. Then she laughed, "I'm not quite sure how Alexander's going to take it. He's a bit antisocial." She grinned. "It should be fun to watch."

"You don't get on with your uncle, do you?" Danielle suddenly asked. "Oh, and I'll have a coke, please."

"Sure. And no, not really. We didn't really know each other all that well until the accident… and after that, we were sort of forced together in a hurry. I didn't like him all that much before, but I guess I'm getting used to him now."

"Where'd you move here from?" Jacob asked.

"I was living in London with my parents," Hermione said, not quite lying. "But Uncle Alexander was living up in Scotland."

"Why'd you choose _here _of all places, then?" Melissa asked. "I mean, yeah, the town's alright… but it's pretty boring after London."

"Alexander wanted a quiet life. He thought this would be a good place. I didn't exactly have a say in the matter. It wasn't good, moving and leaving all my friends."

Melissa nodded. "How d'you keep in touch then, with no internet and no phone?"

"It's sort of hard," Hermione admitted. "My friends aren't really much for letter-writing, either. I've got a feeling we'll fall out of touch pretty soon."

"That's got to be hard."

"Mmm." Hermione would really rather not think about it. Instead, she busied herself with pouring out all the tea and then attempting to find trays to put it on. "I have no idea where _anything _is in the kitchen. Ah-hah! Found them. Would you guys mind helping carry this stuff in?"

Once the tea had been distributed, Hermione realised that Snape would have no idea how to go about playing host, so she went back into the kitchen to grab the food she had bought earlier, along with milk and sugar for the tea.

"My _uncle _is completely useless."

Melissa laughed, yet again. Hermione had a feeling that she would be doing that often, but somehow the noise wasn't offensive. It was strange, because Parvati laughed… well, giggled… frequently, and that noise had often driven Hermione close to committing murder when they had shared a dormitory. Hermione grinned to herself; _that _particular memory didn't make her at all homesick.

"So," Danielle asked, "What kind of music are you into?"

Surprisingly enough, Hermione found that she was quite enjoying herself towards the end of the evening. Despite the slightly awkward start, she had found the others to be good company, and was beginning to think that she might actually enjoy living here after all. Hermione was laughing at a story Danielle was in the middle of telling, when she suddenly heard "… oh really? I'm a chemistry teacher too!" at the back of the room. With a mental _oh SHIT_, Hermione excused herself from the others and made a beeline for Snape.

A man was talking to him, and Snape was beginning to look decidedly panicked. "I'm in the middle of teaching my sixth-formers balancing equations at the moment… you would think they would have figured it out after GCSEs, but apparently not." He laughed. "I don't suppose yours are any more competent than mine, are they?"

Snape forced a laugh. "Most of them are extremely incompetent," he replied.

"Yes, yes. I'm dreading the next couple of weeks, actually. Students find it impossible to deal with the concept of molarity and conversion, and trying to tell them the difference between that and molality, well… don't even get me started!!"

Hermione had a feeling that Snape was understanding about one word in every three that this man was speaking, and decided that if she didn't save him now he would really put his foot in it, and then they'd have to obliviate the whole room.

"Surely we're not all that bad," Hermione interjected, smiling up at him. "It's difficult for the first time, is all. Much harder when you're as young as we are." She smiled up at him innocently, feeling a little disgusted with herself. Snape, on the other hand, was looking at her, shocked. The chemistry teacher puffed himself up.

"Yes, well, it all seems very trivial when you're a little older," the man said in a patronising tone that set Hermione's teeth on edge. _But you asked for it, _Hermione reminded herself.

"How much do you know about biochemistry?" she asked him, feigning wide-eyed interest.

"Ah, well… my subject… I teach… of course…"

Hermione grinned at Snape, surprised but happy that her shot in the dark worked. "My uncle teaches it at a university level, you see. Actually, he's into the herbal side of things, too. You know… natural remedies? He's very into herbal medicines." Snape raised an eyebrow at her, and Hermione smiled a little. "I'll go back to the others, Uncle." And she did so, sighing a little. She would have to keep an eye on Snape; he could kill their cover story with just one wrong word, and explaining to a chemistry teacher why another chemistry teacher had no idea about 'the concept of molarity' would have been difficult.

"I see you've met our chem teacher," Melissa said, pulling a face. "What d'you think?"

"Um, he's a little…"

"Full of himself?" Danielle suggested.

"Yeah."

"You should try having classes with him," Jacob said. "You have no idea how lucky you are that you don't have to go to school."

"I don't know, it's actually pretty crappy. I mean, my uncle gives me lessons, he knows what the homework is and stuff so I can't skive off, and there's absolutely no social life. If I hadn't met Melissa in the grocery store…" Hermione trailed off.

"That must really suck. You're still up for Saturday, right?" Melissa asked.

"Definitely!"

"Great. I thought maybe we could have lunch and I'd show you around a bit, and then we could meet up with these guys and a few others and watch a movie."

"Sounds good. I can't wait to get out of this house!" Hermione replied with feeling.

They spent the rest of the evening chatting, and Hermione thoroughly enjoyed herself. She had to run off quickly a couple of times to save Snape, once when he managed to get himself into a conversation about the controversial should-the-monarchy-be-abolished question (Snape seemed surprised to hear that there still was a queen of England, as the ministry had dealings only with the Prime Minister, and even then rarely), and a second time when somebody began talking about television.

Around eight o'clock, people slowly began to drift away, and by half past Snape and Hermione were left alone once more.

"That," Snape said with feeling, "was _hell_."


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**A/N Another chapter! Again, thanks** _very _**much to all of you who've reviewed… I can't stop grinning when I see another one! Here's another chapter… not particularly good, I'm afraid, but… well, here it is. Sorry about the delay, too. I actually had this written ages ago but then I lost my memory stick and I don't have any floppy disks, so I couldn't transfer to a computer with internet to post… and yes, I know the excuse is horrible, but if I was lying I'd come up with a better one, right? Anyway, the next chapter should be better. Hope you enjoy…**

"I didn't think it was too bad," Hermione said. "We're going to have to teach you to be more like a muggle, though."

Snape looked unhappy. "And why is that necessary?" he asked.

Courtesy warred with irritation inside Hermione, and irritation won out. "Because of the number of times I had to save you from being discovered by muggles this evening," Hermione snapped at him. "I'm sorry, sir… Alexander, even… but if we're going to see these people again you're going to need to be prepared."

"I fail to see the necessity of seeing them again."

_Well, _I'll _go insane if I see nobody but you for the next few months,_ Hermione mentally retorted. Aloud, she said, "It's a small town, sir, we can't help but bump into people. Not to mention that it will be commented on if we spend our entire lives secluded here. On top of that, I've made friends with Melissa, and I think I'll be seeing her quite a lot."

Snape looked unhappy, but for once didn't argue. "How do you intend on remedying my ignorance, then?" he asked her pointedly and sarcastically.

"We'll buy a television," Hermione decided. "And maybe we can go into London every few weeks and just… do muggle things. Go to the library, get some muggle books out… I don't know! TV's probably the best bet."

"Doesn't this television need… electricity… to work?" Snape asked, clearly enunciating the foreign syllables.

"We'll bring in an electrician. Oh… dear. That could be a problem; everyone knows we have lights. Okay, how about we go into town and watch a movie once a week? _Or_," she said, suddenly excited, "We could go into London and see plays. A museum or two wouldn't go amiss, either… the museum of Natural Science! That one'd be excellent for you. And I should probably buy a couple of chemistry textbooks too, since you're supposed to be an expert. Oooh, and…"

"Miss Granger!" Snape snapped. Hermione shut up abruptly, and realised that she'd been rambling. She blushed.

"I'm sorry, sir. But they're good ideas," she said defensively.

"I'm sure they are," he said sourly. "However, it is becoming late, you have homework to complete before tomorrow, and I have a number of things I need to be doing. Perhaps you could save your incessant babbling for tomorrow?"

Hermione flinched. His sudden change of demeanour was surprising, even if it shouldn't have been unexpected. "Of course sir," she said stiffly. "Good night." She turned around and fled up the stairs, fighting back tears once more.

_What is _wrong _with me this week?_ She thought miserably. _I've been mostly happy today, I really enjoyed this evening, and Snape was being civil, and then suddenly he goes back to normal and I start crying? It's pathetic. I want to go home!_

The last time she had seen Harry and Ron felt like ages ago, not like five days. _Was it really that short a time?_ Snape was her only connection with her old life, she realised with a sudden clarity. Just as she was _his _only connection. She had stopped treating him as a professor at some point over the last few days. There was still the respect, of course, and she definitely expected him to continue to teach her… looked forward to it, actually, since he knew so much more than she did, especially in Potions. But there was something different in their relationship now. He was no longer a sarcastic professor or the Order's unpleasant spy, but an actual three-dimensional person. She was more at ease with him, and although she didn't think she could ever enjoy his company, she was beginning to tolerate him. And he _was _her only link with the magical world.

_What would have happened if Dumbledore had told me_ _to go into hiding alone?_ she wondered as she flopped down onto her bed, tears forgotten. _If he told Snape to tell Voldemort that I had just disappeared? I would've gone crazy. Snape's kept me sane, at least, and I guess provided me with company. And, _she thought with an unrepentant smile, _he's kept me amused with the girls he 'apologised' to. I just hope he never finds out…_

The next day passed tolerably well. Snape insisted that she have lessons instead of taking another test, commenting that he had no intention of spending his weekend marking it. The potions lesson was the best of all, Hermione decided, because once in their makeshift lab he had told her that he had no intention of coddling her and would push her now that there were not twenty other students demanding close supervision. Hermione, reading between the lines of his malice, had merely nodded, grinning inside at the very carefully hidden compliment. The work had immediately become much more challenging, but also much more interesting.

Hermione was cleaning up after dinner, an ordeal that took far less time now that she was using the scourgify charm, when Snape entered the kitchen.

"I am leaving now," he said a little stiffly. "I intend to return at some point before eleven. Do I… pass inspection?" he asked rather sarcastically.

"I'm shocked that you care so much about my opinion," Hermione said in a similar tone. "If you want it, ask for it civilly. If not, go out looking like a cross-dressing Goth, see if I care!" She was irritated that he would patronise her when he obviously wasn't sure whether he would pass in public as a muggle. She knew she was being unfair, because he did look perfectly fine, but at the same time he was irritating her no end.

"A cross-dressing Goth?" he inquired with a raised eyebrow.

"That's what I said," she replied crisply. Then, relenting a little, "But you don't look like that now, in the clothes we transfigured for your last date. You'll need to wear different ones tomorrow, but we can deal with that then." Then, feeling a little spiteful, she added, "Enjoy yourself."

Snape, true to form, cut through all of Hermione's little speech to the one part that she hadn't thought through before she had said. "Date?" he asked dangerously.

"Date? Uhh, you see… I meant… um…."

"This _woman_ thinks that I am taking her on a _date_?"

"No, no, nothing like that," she said hastily. "It was just a slip of the tongue. You're just going to dinner to apologise for bumping into her."

"It had better be so," Snape said, glaring at her for good measure. "Very well. I will see you later on tonight."

As he left, Hermione gave a huge sigh of relief, having the feeling that she had come out of an extremely dangerous situation intact. Which, she reflected, was the truth. Snape wasn't a particularly nice person, and while she knew that deep down he was basically good, there was a lot of unpleasantness between that goodness and the face he presented to the world. She suspected he rather enjoyed the nastiness that he employed frequently. Shaking her head, Hermione finished putting the plates away and went into the living room to finish her book and wait for Snape to return.

When he did return, Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin at volume at which he slammed the door. "HERMIONE GRANGER!" he roared from the entrance hall. She shrieked, dropped the book, and then tried to control her breathing. _He can't kill me, he can't kill me, he can't kill me_, she repeated to herself. _Jesus bloody _Christ_ what did I do now?_

Snape stormed into the room, his coat flying out behind him in the same way that the robes he usually wore billowed.

"Yes, sir?" she asked timidly. Then, suddenly angry with herself, she said in a much stronger voice, "What's wrong?"

"I had to listen to _Tanya,_" and he spat the name out with venom, "prattle _all evening long_. When I thought she had finally finished she called me _caring, understanding, and SWEET!_ And _then _she had the nerve to _kiss me _and _then _she _insisted_ on _another DATE!_"

Hermione tried to formulate a response that wasn't 'Please God HELP ME.'

_"What _do you have to say for yourself?" Snape asked.

Realising that she was playing with fire and then spontaneously decided that she didn't care, Hermione said, "Did you agree to a second date with her?"

"What choice did I have?" he spat. "I can't _offend _her, can I?"

"Oh… dear," she said, suddenly trying to overcome a fit of the giggles now that his anger had been replaced with what appeared to be fear.

"What do I do?" he asked wildly.

"I suppose you go on the date with her," Hermione replied straight-faced. "When is it?"

"Next Wednesday." He sank tiredly into his seat.

"It can't be that bad. This way, you won't offend her _and _you'll be getting about a bit, so people won't think you're a hermit."

"I have lived my life perfectly well without caring what other people think," Snape informed her tiredly. "Why is it so necessary that I begin now?"

"Because we're hiding from Voldemort and we can't afford to make ourselves in any was suspicious."

Snape sighed. "Of course. And… I apologise for my earlier outburst." The words came through gritted teeth, but just the fact that he has said them dumbfounded Hermione. "I intend to go to bed now. You would be wise to do the same. Good night." And he stood and swept out of the room, leaving a thoroughly confused Hermione in his wake.

_Is he angry with me? Upset? Just tired? Of all the people I could've ended up going into hiding with, it _would _have to be a spy, better at hiding his true feelings than anyone else. _She sighed and put her book away. Maybe she would do as he suggested and go to bed.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**A/N Yep, here's another chapter. The posting's slowed down coz I'm now out of my pre-written chapters, but hopefully it'll continue to be a chapter every week or two. I haven't forgotten about the requirements, either… they'll be coming up, but I know where I want them and that's quite a way into the future of this story. All that's left is**

**_-"You're tearing my world apart" _******

**_-"I hate the way you think you can throw my flaws into my face and get away with it"_**

**Anyway, that's coming up eventually. Now I'll shut up and let you read. Please review!**

Hermione woke up early the next day, nervous but excited about meeting Melissa and her friends. She made breakfast for the two of them, as she had told Snape she would when they had argued that first day they had moved in. Then they sat and ate in silence. This was becoming less uncomfortable, Hermione realised.

"What time do we leave?" Snape asked her abruptly.

Hermione choked on her coffee. "We?" she asked, once she had swallowed.

"As I have said. When?"

"Um… sir, I was going to go alone."

"Out of the question."

"Why?"

"Because," he said slowly and clearly, "the most evil dark wizard of the age wants you dead."

"We're in hiding, professor, under the Fidelius. He won't recognise us. Besides which, this is a completely muggle town. It's perfectly safe. _And,_" she added when he opened his mouth to argue again, "I'm an adult and perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"Being eighteen does not make you an adult," he told her. "And I highly doubt your _capability._"

Hermione bristled. "Excuse _me, _sir, but it is hardly difficult to walk to town. Children far younger than myself do it daily and no harm whatsoever comes to them!"

Snape raised an eyebrow at her. She hated the way he could make her feel like a child just by that one single action. He calmly took a mouthful of eggs, chewed, swallowed, and washed it down with a sip of coffee. Then he said calmly,

"Regardless of your feelings on the matter, I _will_ accompany you, at least to the edge of town."

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, decided it wasn't worth the effort, and closed it again. She nodded, and proceeded to finish her breakfast. She did not, therefore, see Snape's eyes widen in surprise at her sudden acquiescence, nor did she see his relieved and slightly smug smile when she did not argue with him any more.

Hermione spent more time getting ready after breakfast than she normally did, and even put on some makeup and dried her hair. She looked at herself in the mirror, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. This was all completely irrational, she told herself firmly. There was no reason to be nervous. Regardless, meeting new people was always difficult for her. She would much rather curl up in front of the fire with a good book. _But you won't feel that way in a couple of weeks when you have no friends and only Snape for company_, she told herself firmly. _So go!_ Obeying herself, and feeling slightly sheepish about her inner argument, she went downstairs.

"About time," Snape snapped at her when she came down.

"You're the one who insisted on coming with me," she retorted.

He rolled his eyes but did not comment. It was her turn to wait, outside, while he re-warded the house, and then they made their way to town.

True to his word, Snape left her at the edge of town and returned back to the house, with only a terse reminder to "be back by half past five." Hermione nodded, and set off to find the specified restaurant.

Melissa was already waiting, and stood up and flashed a grin at Hermione when she saw her coming.

"Hi!" Melissa said, and hugged her. Hermione replied and hugged her back, all awkwardness suddenly vanishing.

"We can just have a coffee, or whatever, now," Melissa said, sitting back down, "And then I called a couple of people… we thought we'd see a movie around twelve-ish, and then maybe have a late lunch afterwards." She smiled. "It's got to suck being new to town and not having school or whatever to meet people, so I thought you might like to meet some of my friends. You don't mind, do you?"

"Not at all," Hermione said, smiling back. "I'd love!"

And she did. She and Melissa talked about everything and nothing for the next hour, and then they went to the cinema, where they met up with Danielle. After hanging around and chatting with each other for a while the rest of the people Melissa had invited turned up. She was reintroduced to Jacob, Melissa's boyfriend, and introduced to James, the boy who had talked to her the first day at the grocery store, Hannah, Sasha, and Mark.

After the movie, which was bad, they moved to the park nearby, where they all flopped on the grass and continued to talk about the movie and chat, forgoing lunch because they had eaten so much popcorn. Hermione was quiet and uncomfortable at first, not used to big groups of people or to talking to people she didn't know. Eventually she was drawn into the conversation, and then ended up having a heated debate over, of all things, Star Wars, with Mark and Sasha.

"You ever been on a debating team, Jane?" Mike asked, grinning at her, when she won the argument.

"Nope."

"Really?" he asked in surprise. "But you're so…"

"Bossy?" she supplied, grinning at him.

"Something like that," he agreed, smiling back at her. "Well, would you like to be on the team?"

"There is one?"

"At the school. I know you haven't done it before, but it shouldn't be too hard to pick up."

"Oh… I don't know," Hermione said. "I mean… will they let me?"

"I don't see why not. It's a state school, after all. And you'd go there if you weren't home-schooled. In fact, I'll ask on Monday. Why don't you give me your number, and I'll give you a call once I've found out."

Melissa laughed, joining the conversation. "She doesn't have a phone," she said.

There was an outraged gasp from the group.

"How can you not have a phone?"

"That's crazy!"

"How do you call people?"

"I don't," Hermione said unhappily. "It's my uncle. It's okay, I guess. You get used to it."

"I still think it's ridiculous," Melissa said. "You should at least get a mobile."

"I could…" Hermione mused. In fact, getting a mobile phone _would _be a good idea. She should get one for the both of them… the only trouble would lie in convincing Snape. "I'll talk to my uncle about it," she decided.

"Good," Mark told her. "Well… I suppose I could come to your house to tell you. Where do you live?"

"A couple of miles into the woods," Hermione replied, making a face.

"Ouch," he commented. "I don't suppose you have a car, either?"

"Nope. Still, it's good exercise."

"I should think so! Okay, well, I'll walk down there Monday after school once Jones has agreed, to tell you. Practices are after school, by the way, an hour on Tuesday and Thursday. Debates are Friday after school… normally against another school, so we have to drive for miles to other schools, of course."

Hermione laughed. "Problem with living in the middle of nowhere. Okay, sounds good… I'll ask my uncle."

"Great." He grinned at her. She grinned back, and then, for some reason unknown even to herself, blushed and looked away. She covered her sudden discomfort by looking at her watch, and realised it was a quarter past five.

"Damn! I'm sorry, I've got to run. My uncle's a bit overprotective," she said. "Sorry again. Thanks, Melissa, for this."

Melissa grinned at her. "No problem, it was fun."

"Yeah, we should do it again," James added. "We don't do stuff together enough."

"Next week," Hannah chipped in.

It was agreed, and then Hermione realised that it was now twenty minutes past and there was no way she could get back in time without running. With a quick good bye to everyone, she left at a sprint. _We really could do with that motorbike_, she thought ruefully.

When she arrived back at the house, Snape surprised Hermione yet again by not commenting on the fact that she was five minutes late. Instead, he said to her,

"I took the liberty of preparing dinner tonight, as I assumed you would not have given thought to the matter."

"Oh… no, I hadn't… thank you," she said, slightly flustered. "Um… what are we having?"

He raised an eyebrow at the way the question had turned out, but said calmly, "Ravioli in a tomato sauce with a tossed salad and, I believe, an Italian vinaigrette." Hermione's mouth was hanging open. She shut it with an audible snap.

"But… you said you can't cook!" she blurted out.

"I went to the supermarket this afternoon. It offered a collection of cookbooks, a few of which I bought. You think me incapable of following a recipe?"

"No… of course not sir. I… thank you."

"Of course. We shall eat in about an hour. Perhaps tomorrow you would be so kind," and if the word was slightly sarcastic she was still too surprised to notice, "as to begin with my, ah, muggle lessons. In London."

"Of course, sir," she replied, still slightly dazed.

"Good." He smirked at her. She shook her head, trying to clear it.

"Yes. Okay. I'll be upstairs." With that, she left the room. He was the strangest person she had ever known. In fact, if she hadn't known better, she would have sworn that he kept changing like this to throw her off balance. Of one thing, at least, she was certain; there was far more to her former potions professor than met the eye.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**A/N Somebody (I'm sorry… I can't remember who, now) asked in a review why the Fidelius wasn't broken in chapter thirteen when Snape roared Hermione's name. Two reasons, really; firstly, he didn't say her middle name, and secondly there was nobody but themselves to hear it. The charm is broken when one of them says the other's full name, middle names and all, so that another person hears it. This chapter's up and out in what I think must be the shortest interval between chapters yet… I'm very proud of myself. Tell me what you think, please. And thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed so far! I quite literally couldn't stop grinning when I read them all. The Turkish restaurant mentioned here is very real and very yummy… if you ever get a chance to go there I recommend you do. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter, too…**

Hermione was up early the next day, showering and dressing and getting ready for the trip to London. While hopefully it would be useful and productive, Hermione had the sinking feeling that this would be the most stressful day she had encountered so far. _And, _she thought ruefully, _Snape won't like encountering so many things he doesn't know. He probably won't even be talking to me by the end of today_. At that, Hermione wondered whether or not it would be a bad thing. She would have peace and quiet. Snape wouldn't be able to shout at her, or criticise, or make malicious comments if he wasn't speaking to her. Then again, she wouldn't have anyone to talk to, either. Hermione needed human company, and Snape _was _her only link to the wizarding world.

Hermione realised that she had spent the last ten minutes staring into the mirror daydreaming. Laughing at herself, she went back to the bedroom to get dressed. Today would sort itself out, without any help from her. She would just have to hope that neither of them killed the other before the day was out.

Snape was still determined in his no-apparition-unless-absolutely-necessary rule, so they walked to the town and caught the train to London, wasting a good four hours of their day before they even arrived.

"Sir?" she asked when they were two hours into the three-hour-long train journey.

"Yes, Jane?" he replied pointedly. Hermione blushed. She kept forgetting their roles as uncle and niece, and it was extremely difficult to keep in character when he was being so… Snapish.

"Alexander," she amended. "Um… we're not going to arrive until two, and we'll have to leave by five to catch the last train back here. That doesn't leave us much time in London."

"So what do you suggest?" he enquired, with that bloody eyebrow raised again, she noticed.

"Perhaps, sir, Alexander, we could get a hotel room? That way we could come back in the morning, and we'll be able to see a play or a movie tonight. Otherwise we won't be able to do much. There's not really enough time."

"Very well, Jane," he said, sighing a little. "I will leave today's plans in your hands. If all does not go well, however, you will find that this is the last time I will do so." Hermione rolled her eyes, but did not comment, merely nodding before she went back to looking out the window.

When the train finally pulled into Waterloo station, they both stood up and jostled with the rest of the passengers until they finally made it off the train. Swept into the crowd of humanity, Hermione was immediately separated from Snape as people began to move from the platform to the station. She grinned to herself when she saw the glare on Snape's face. Today would be interesting. When he finally caught up with her, Hermione grabbed his hand and pulled him through the stream of people still exiting the train to the centre of the station. She let go once they were safely away from the crowds of muggles.

"Well, what do you think?" she asked.

"I think it's appalling," he said flatly. "How muggles can stand to travel in this way I have no idea. Well, what are your plans for these _lessons_?" he asked nastily.

Hermione took a leaf from Snape's book and raised her own eyebrow at him before replying, "I thought I'd let you buy our return tickets, first of all. Using that machine over there." She pointed. "After all, you seem to have learnt muggle money over the last week. Let's see if you can put it into practice without a cashier telling you what to do."

Snape nodded brusquely and strode over to the machine she indicated. Five minutes, much swearing, and a number of dirty looks from the people in the queue behind then, Hermione rapidly introduced Snape to the concept of a touch-screen. With Snape looking thunderous and Hermione having to try extremely hard to control her giggles, they left the station quickly.

"Whatis the _point_ of that… _contraption_?" he spat, glaring daggers at her.

"It's faster and easier than going through a salesperson," Hermione said once she was sure of her ability to restrain laughter. "That is… most of the time." Decided that she should probably stop her Snape-baiting, at least for the moment, she quickly said, "Look, there's a machine that'll give us bus passes. Why don't you try that one, too?"

The concept of buttons was readily learnt, and Snape looked quite pleased with himself when the little machine spat out two tickets with minimal interference from Hermione. After booking one room in a relatively nice hotel ("We can't spend _all _of the ministry's money this weekend") and buying two tickets for a performance of _Les Misérables_ that evening, both of which she convinced Snape to do, Hermione found herself sitting on a park bench, giving Snape a crash-course in French history and a brief summary of the play.

Snape, to Hermione's surprise, was attentive and seemed reluctantly interested, although he made more sarcastic comments than was normal. Hermione decided that he was uncomfortable with the sudden role reversal. She was most definitely in control here, as she knew muggles and muggle London and Snape did not. So she ignored his sarcasm, and instead told the story of Jean Valjean to her interested-despite-himself audience.

"_Fascinating _as this is," Snape sneered once Hermione had finished recounting the tale, "why is it that you have told me the story when we will be watching the play tonight?"

She rolled her eyes. "You'll get more out of it if you already know the story," she told him. "The music's excellent, and you'll be able to appreciate it more if you know what's going on."

"If you say so," he replied sceptically.

"I do. Now, we have three hours until the play begins. Why don't we go to Oxford Street?" She couldn't stop herself from grinning at him, imagining Snape going shopping. "You'll need some nice muggle clothes for tonight, and I know a perfect Turkish restaurant to take you to before the play."

Snape grumbled under his breath as he stood. "Has anyone ever told you how irritating you are?" he asked. Surprisingly, to Hermione, there was no sting in his voice. She just smiled at him again.

"Let's go, then. We have quite a bit to do between now and seven o'clock tonight."

They walked the length of Oxford street, and then returned to the hotel room laden with purchases. Most were for Snape, casual and formal clothes that Hermione felt would do him for the rest of the time they were in this forced exile from the magical world. She also had some for herself, as well, having seen a number of things that she quite liked. They both changed into warmer and more formal evening attire, and then Hermione once again lead Snape out into the street.

"Where are we going this time?" he asked her wearily.

"Dinner. The restaurant I mentioned? Özer, it's called. You do like Turkish food, don't you?" she asked, suddenly worried.

He nodded his head. "When adequately prepared, I do. However, I find it difficult to believe that muggles in…"

"Stop it," Hermione snapped. "I know you're intelligent," were the words really coming out of her mouth? "I know you can't really believe all the rubbish you've been spoon fed since birth," oh God why couldn't she stop talking? "And I would have thought you would have figured out by now that perhaps all the crap you've been brainwashed into believing isn't necessarily true." Hermione shut her mouth with a snap. _Oh bugger_, she thought. _I never do learn, do I?_

Snape, to her utmost shock, said nothing. Then, "_Perhaps_, Miss Granger, you have a point." Hermione nearly fell over in shock. "However, your tone when addressing a professor… or uncle… is unacceptable."

"I… sorry Professor." Hermione was dazed. Had he actually agreed with her?

"You mean Alexander, I believe," he told her, with… was that a hint of humour in his voice?

"Of course. Sorry. The restaurant's this way. Uh, Regent Street." Still feeling dazed, Hermione lead the way.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**A couple of questions to address, first of all… Beth, as to why Snape doesn't use legilimency… good point. Honestly, it hasn't actually occurred to me for him to do so. Thinking about it, though, as snarky as Snape is, he's a basically good person. And if that doesn't hold weight (we all have our different impressions of him), he's definitely intelligent – he knows that Hermione will know what he's doing if he tries it, and he's smart enough to know that being isolated with an angry Hermione for six odd months is _not_ a good thing. And wackoramaco87, yep, I've been to London. I've just about named all the places I know of in the city. Umm… thanks for pointing out the mistake, Grand-Illusion… I'll fix it now. Sigh My beta's too busy to beta for me anymore. I go through them far too quickly!**

**I've forgotten who suggested it, but somebody asked if I was going to do a chapter in Snape's PoV. In most of my stories I tend to stick with one character throughout, but this one hasn't really worked that way... it's been mostly Hermione so far, yes, but there's been quite a bit of Snape's thoughts and feelings thrown in too… third person omniscient narrative, if you will. The beginning here is Snape, actually, though it goes back to Hermione later on. Sorry about the strange transitions. I just think the story flows better this way.**

**The swearing-at-machines thing sort of comes from me… I have issues with them, too. And to Cow as White as Milk, I love Les Mis! Owned by Victor Hugo, by the way, in case I forgot to disclaim yesterday. 'On My Own' is my favourite song of the whole musical, I think… and I'm not sure who my favourite character is. And there's a little Les Mis discussion in here (too much time in Lit class and I'm seeing literary parallels in _everything_), anyway, it helps if you know the book/play for at least parts of this. If not, go and read/watch it! It's excellent! And now that I've wasted most of a page, on with the chapter. Sorry it's late… blame the IB.**

Severus Snape was rather pleased with himself. Hermione… Miss Granger… _Jane _had been turning the tables on him all day. It was satisfying to finally be able to get his own back, so to speak. Not, of course, that a Snape would stoop to anything quite so petty as revenge for something like this. He was merely enjoying the opportunity to confuse the hell of out of his present dinner companion.

Snape ate another mouthful of his (surprisingly tasty) humus, and went back to watching Hermione. He had discovered that watching her while keeping his face expressionless made her more uncomfortable than anything else he could do while remaining civil. Although…

"So, Jane, what time is it that this play starts?" he asked conversationally. Hermione eyed him, wary and a little nervous.

"It begins in an hour, Alexander. We'll finish here pretty soon, and then I thought we could walk there? It's not all that far, and we ought to get there on time. Unless, of course, you don't want to…" she trailed off, apparently realising that she was babbling, and blushed. Snape hid a smirk.

"I see no problem with walking," he told her calmly, certainly not about to reveal to her the pain in his legs from all the walking they had been doing all day. "I suggest that we call a taxi on the way back, however."

"Of course, sir. Um, we might want to leave pretty soon. Did you want to pay?" she asked. Snape nodded abruptly.

"The bill, please," he called to a passing waiter, who merely nodded and continued on his way. Snape frowned.

"We really need to get a credit card," Hermione murmured when she was sure that nobody was within earshot. "If we keep paying with all this cash people will begin to think we're bank robbers, or something."

"What use is this _credit card_?" Snape asked, again enunciating the foreign syllables clearly. Hermione smirked and then stopped smiling almost immediately, remembering Ron's difficulty with the 'fellytone.'

"Hermione?"

"What? Oh, sorry, what was that, Alexander?" she asked, snapping out of her reverie. Snape frowned at her.

"I called you Jane three times," he said reprovingly. "I asked what this credit card was. And the waiter has brought the change, so we may now leave."

"Oh, of course. Great. And a credit card… it lets you pay for things throughout the month without actually paying, and then you pay all at once at the end of the month."

"Pay without actually paying?"

"Yes. You know you can charge things to your Gringotts account in the wizarding world? Well, it's similar to that. You have a card that represents your account, and then basically the bank pays throughout the month. At the end of the month you pay the bank, and if you're a little late in paying they charge interest. The shop and the bank make more money and it's more convenient for you, so everyone's happy."

They walked to the theatre, Hermione explaining the intricacies of debit cards, cash cards, phone cards, and muggle banking along the way. Snape, although derisive of anything muggle, seemed interested in learning about the new world he had been thrust into, and was far less unpleasant than he usually was.

_He's become a _lot_ less unpleasant recently, actually, _Hermione realised. _Maybe I've become used to him or maybe he's just different when he's not teaching all those students, but he's much… well, not nicer… but more bearable. _She realised with a jolt that they had spent an almost enjoyable day together. And she didn't even like shopping!

Les Misérables, Severus Snape had decided, was excellent. By the time it was drawing to a close, he was thoroughly impressed with muggle literature and had rethought his entire opinion both of the muggle world and the French as a whole. Not, of course, that he would ever admit that to Hermione. Neither, for that matter, would he admit it to anyone else. Marius was singing _Empty Chairs at Empty Tables, _a haunting song, and all around him people were sniffing. Snape rolled his eyes as a matter of course, but there was no real emotion behind the action. Hermione was sitting next to him, perched on the edge of her seat, and surreptitiously wiping her eyes.

The play, once it finished, left him in a reflective mood. Hermione didn't talk to him, lost in her own thoughts, for which he was grateful. Watching the story acted out brought to it a lifelike quality that had been absent when Hermione had been recounting it to him in the park, and seeing Jean Valjean on the stage had left him feeling slightly hollow. They were so similar. Both had spent their entire lives running from and trying to atone for a mistake made early on in their lives. Both had been treated with mistrust and suspicion. And now Snape was in hiding with Hermione, much as Valjean was with Cosette. Snape wondered morosely whether he would end up scorned and feared for the rest of his life, misunderstood until the very end, and blamed by those who ought to be his allies.

Realising that this musing was nothing but a fit of self-pity, Snape shook himself out of his reverie. He was also similar to Marius – once full of ideals now long-gone, missing friends and family, and trying to do what he thought right. He smirked. Maybe he, too, would marry the beautiful girl and settle down to live happily ever after. He laughed quietly at himself. Life didn't work that way. He ought to know know. Ideals were pretty, but that was all they were.

"Alexander?" Hermione said.

"Yes?" They had arrived at the hotel.

"Why couldn't we have stayed at that hotel opposite the restaurant? The Langham?" Snape asked wearily as he entered the room and looked at it properly for the first time. It was small, cramped, dark, and smelled badly of wet carpet.

"Because it's expensive and we're trying to keep costs down until we know how much we're likely to be spending," Hermione reminded him, equally weary. "Why don't you use the bathroom first? I'm going to need to wipe all this goop off my face, and it could take a while."

"Goop?" he asked, with that damned eyebrow raised _yet again_. Hermione had no idea why it irritated her so much, but it really did.

"Make-up," she told him. "Will you use the bathroom first?"

"I suppose so." Snape glanced dubiously at the bathroom door. He curled his lip in distaste and went into the room with the air of one beginning a journey from which he doubted he would return. Hermione tiredly rolled her eyes. For a man who was an accomplished spy and previously one of the most invaluable members of the Order of the Phoenix, Severus Snape was a remarkable snob.

He emerged from the bathroom two minutes later wearing what appeared to be common muggle boxer shorts. She couldn't keep the expression of shock from her face. He glanced irritably at her.

"Is there a problem?" he asked.

"Uh, no, Alexander. I just… didn't think you'd…" Hermione trailed off and blushed, acutely aware that she was staring at her Professor in his sleepwear and commenting on said sleepwear.

"Was there any coherence whatsoever in that attempted statement?" Snape asked pointedly. Hermione ducked her head.

"No sir." She walked quickly into the bathroom.

Five minutes later and make-up free, Hermione went back into the room wearing her pyjamas. Thankfully, she had remembered to bring the large-shirt-and-shorts over the pink flowery flannel nightie and the scanty slinky blue… thing… that, respectively, her mother and a rather optimistic cousin had bought her. Snape had apparently claimed the bed closest to the door and was lying on it, reading. The scene was strangely peaceful, and Hermione wondered how this man lying on top of the covers reading his book and the man she had seen watching the play with such a vulnerable expression on his face could be so different from the cold and spiteful potions professor he had been at Hogwarts. Of course, the new and improved Severus Snape could revert to type in an instant, but when he wasn't the surly potions master he was just so… different.

"If you've quite finished staring at me?" Snape said dryly. Hermione jumped.

"S… sorry. I was thinking. Um, what are you reading?"

"A novel," he said shortly. Then, neatly changing the subject, "Come, Jane, and get into bed before I fall asleep over this novel. I would quite like to put the light out at some point and it's rapidly approaching midnight."

"The day has been rather busy, hasn't it?" Hermione asked with a small smile.

"Indeed." He watched as she got into her bed and then put out the light in his wand.

Hermione was debating whether or not she ought to say good night to him when he broke the silence.

"Tell me, Jane, you don't snore, do you?"

"No I don't snore!" she responded, not sure whether to laugh or be shocked.

"Good. Because I would hate to have to put a silencing charm on you."

"Of course you would," she responded sarcastically, in much the same way she would have if it had been Ron, or Harry, teasing her. The thought was strange, but, Hermione realised, not unpleasant. She was becoming comfortable around him at last.

"Indeed. Good night, Jane."

"Night, Alexander."

**A/N Really quickly… Özer's real (and very yummy), the Langham's real (and a nice hotel), and the hotel Snape and Hermione are staying is based off one I stayed in a few years ago, but, of course, nicer. I couldn't put our poor characters through torture that bad. Anyway, thanks for making it through, sorry again that it's late, and please review!**


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**A/N Sorry for the delay... as usual, IB (having already killed all my free time), is slowly killing me too.  And then there have been auditions and babysitting and concerts and huge research papers and all sorts of other time-consuming stuff.  But the next chapter's finally out!  Thanks loads to XxgemxX for betaing this for me (you're wonderful!), and to snapefan51, who kindly agreed to beta, but I had to post this chapter now otherwise it wouldn't be posted for another 2 weeks.  And also to everyone else who has reviewed... in fact, thank you if you're reading this, and thank you even more if you're planning on reviewing.  And I don't normally reply to reviews (because it always irritates me to have to skim over thousands of "thank you, you're so kinds" before getting to the review button thingummy at the end), but I have a couple of questions to answer, so I'll put responses at the end.  And I really do think that's it.   Hope you enjoy this!**

_Chapter Seventeen_

Hermione woke to light filtering onto her face and the sound of car horns blaring through the cracked window. She rolled over and put the pillow over her head, trying to block out the invasive noise.

"It won't work," Snape commented dryly. Hermione jumped, the pillow dropping to the floor.

"Sorry, sir," she said, blushing as she rolled over and felt around the floor for her lost pillow. "I didn't realise you were awake."

"Evidently." Snape pointed his wand at the window and muttered a silencing charm. Instantly, all was quiet. "Much better. Now, I suggest that if you want to shower you do so now. I don't particularly want to stay in this room longer than I have to."

It was only after Hermione was out of the shower and drying herself off that she realised she hadn't brought a change of clothes in with her. Dressed only in her towel, and blushing profusely, she stuck her head and wand arm around the door and summoned her suitcase. It came, spilling clothes across the room as it did so. Hermione heard a bark of laughter from the room, and blushed even more as she hastily grabbed the suitcase and retreated back into the bathroom to dress. Today was not going to be a good day.

When she emerged Snape was lying on top of his bed, reading again. He was still in his boxers, Hermione noticed absently, and as if she couldn't get any more embarrassed, one of her bras was hanging from the end of his bed! She let out a low moan, face still bright red, and began picking up her scattered clothing, starting by snatching up the bra.

Snape, she noticed from the corner of her eye, was smirking. "Tell me, Jane," he said mockingly, "Is this a usual morning ritual of yours? Throwing clothes all over the room?"

"Yes," she replied sarcastically, trying to keep her voice nonchalant even if she couldn't control the telltale blush, "And I generally try to throw underwear at professors, too. Part of my routine."

"So it would seem." Snape was openly smiling now. Hermione was surprised to notice that it really transformed his face. He looked almost - not quite, but almost - pleasant.

"Well, if you've _quite_ finished making fun of me, Alexander, you might want to have a shower yourself," she said tartly.

He raised that annoying eyebrow at her but, surprisingly, obeyed.

The day went by rather quickly. After they had eaten breakfast at a small and very over priced café, the two made their way to a bank, where Hermione opened an account and deposited £500 immediately.

"This way," she explained, "We can slowly put some of the ministry's money into the account." _And, _she mentally added, _My pay checks can go there when I get a job_. Aloud, she said, "And it's easier than paying cash. If we keep paying everything this way somebody's going to think we got it illegally. And explaining away monthly cash payments from the ministry of magic to muggle policemen would _not _be fun."

The next stop was to the motorbike shop. They had just walked through the door when Hermione realised that they would need a license to buy a motorbike.

"Just a second, Alexander," she said.

"There's a problem, Jane?"

"Just a small one. We need a license to be able to buy a motorbike." His eyes narrowed.

"And how do you propose we circumvent the requirement?" he asked suspiciously.

"That sort of depends on how much you're prepared to… um… bend the law."

Snape, to Hermione's utmost surprise, put his head back and burst out laughing. Hermione glared at him.

"What's so funny?" she demanded.

"You are," he said, finally stopping for breath.

"You're behaving very strangely," she told him. "First you smile, and now you're laughing."

"This enforced living as a muggle is driving me to hysteria," he informed her, reverting immediately to his normal cold tone.

_Damnit_, she thought. "Sorry sir, it was just an observation. Um, yes. See, it shouldn't be too difficult to learn to ride a motorbike and we're not going to be travelling all that fast with it, so it's not going to be dangerous. And we have magic to fix up anything we could do to ourselves…"

"So how do you plan on getting one of us a fake license?" he enquired, his tone still a little cool. _Don't comment on his behaviour again, _Hermione mentally admonished herself.

"Perhaps, sir, it's time to introduce you to the internet."

They found an internet café not far from the motorbike shop and Hermione put down money for an hour on one computer.

"This is the most useful tool the muggle world has," Hermione informed him, "And it's probably the most fun. You can do anything with the internet, as long as you know how."

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's difficult to explain. Basically, it's a network. People all over the world can communicate with each other as long as they have a computer and a modem. You can send letters to each other instantly, even talk instantly over the Internet. You can publish articles online… on the Internet… you can research almost _anything_, well, muggle, anyway. You can find people with similar interests to your own, you can book flights or tickets to pretty much anywhere… basically, you can do almost anything for a lot less hassle over the Internet."

"And how does his relate to motorbike licenses?" he asked sceptically.

"One thing at a time, I think. Email first, professor."

Forty-five minutes later, Hermione had given Snape a crash course in everything from hotmail to eBay to search engines. They had found a website where some idiot had scanned his motorbike license (Hermione thanked God for stupid English muggles), and then printed the license off. Twenty minutes after that it was replicated and put onto a plastic card. The pictures, names, and ages were appropriately changed, and they had altered the number, too.

"This ought to do it, I think," Hermione said at last. "Shall we go to the shop, Alexander?"

"Of course."

One shiny motorbike bought and shrunk later, Hermione and Snape were sitting in a pub eating fish and chips.

"Muggle tradition," Hermione said, waving a chip. "Fish and chips are a staple of the English muggle diet."

Snape prodded at the soggy batter. "Does it have any nutritional value whatsoever?" he asked, before dubiously taking a mouthful and chewing.

"Nope," Hermione said cheerfully. "Fat and carbohydrates. The protein's sort of drowned by the other two. But it tastes good." Snape grunted noncommittally. "Don't be so grumpy, professor. Alexander. It tastes good _and _it's cultural. Anyway, was there anything else you wanted to do today?"

"Not that I can think of," was his reply. "Does that mean that the torture of the past forty-eight hours is finally drawing to an end?"

"Almost," Hermione said, smiling a rather evil smile. "There's still the matter of leathers."

"Leathers?" he asked warily. He had begun to recognise that smile.

"Yes. It's law to wear helmets on motorbikes, but it's stupid not to wear leather."

"What, precisely, do you mean?" he asked.

"Just that. You need to wear leather when you're driving. Safety precaution. So if you fall you don't lose all of your skin and a number of vital organs."

Snape scowled at her. "And what, pray tell, is wrong with a shielding charm?"

Hermione hadn't thought of that. _Damn. Oh well, it was worth a try_. "Nothing, I suppose, Alexander," she said sadly. _And I had come so close to forcing Snape into leather! A picture of _that_ would have been worth his weight in gold. And possibly mine, too._

"But," he said, ignoring her response, "If it's something muggles do we probably should do the same so as not to draw attention to ourselves."

Hermione gaped at him. Slowly, she grinned. "Of course, Alexander. You're absolutely right."

"Of course I am," he snapped, irritably. "Very well. Let us pay for this… food… and then find these leathers. I should like to return home at some point today."

**A/N II:  So  how was it?  grin  And now for the questions... To Jessica White, the characterisation of Snape and Hermione has always fascinated me, but I'm afraid of making them too OOC and this story is already moving at such a slow pace that I'm afraid to spend too much on internal musing.  I _do _want to develop the characters more, and I'm going to make a bit more effort to do so over the next few chapters.  to GuardGirl... I'm afraid something-happening-between-them romantically will be quite a while in coming.  I've got a _lot _more of this story to come (it will probably be my longest yet... already is, in fact, I think).  The friendship thing is developing quite nicely, but the romance will be a while in coming.  I want it to be realistic, and I think they need the time.  To amct, I'm a little offended you asked for challenge fics in a review without reading this one, but then if you don't read it you won't see my response, so that's okay.  Go to the yahoo group wikkt... they're all there.  To chosensword (ffnet doesn't like the upwards arrow things) ... I **did **reply to your offer of betaing, didn't I?  I thought I did, but I don't remember... if I didn't, I'm really sorry... let me know and I'll email you.  If you just don't want to do it anymore, don't worry about it and thanks for the initial offer.  And, a little redundantly, to jessica... this was the next chapter.  I'm afraid 18 will be a little while, though... hopefully I can write it over Thanksgiving, but no promises.  And now I'll shut up.  **


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**A/N Yep, I'm sorry, it's late again. The thanksgiving break disappeared in a whirlwind of busy-ness and confusion and I only managed to write about a page over the break… so I am sorry about that. The Christmas holidays will be equally busy so who knows when the next bit will be out… but I promise I'll try to at least finish writing it before Christmas day. Thanks to XxgemxX for being an excellent beta – she's made this legible. And thank you to everyone who's reviewed! Hope this chapter's okay…**

Hermione collapsed on her bed, exhausted but pleased with herself. The last two days had been busy but satisfying. 'Project Mugglise Snape' (PMS, as she later noticed… but then again she had always had bad luck with acronyms) was well under way, having seen Les Misérables, and having bought everything she'd wanted to, including a camera. She had also ridden the motorbike, getting back into practice as she had not been on one since the summer before, at the farm at which her family had stayed. In fact, the only down side that she could see was that Snape had refused to show her what the leather looked like on, but then again she would have to see him in it some time soon, and the simple fact that he had bought it was enough satisfaction for one day. The amusement of seeing him in it could come later.

Hermione dragged herself out of bed, intent on brushing her teeth and then going back to bed extremely early, when the doorbell rang. She frowned. Who on earth would be ringing _their _doorbell? She ran down the stairs, finding a surprising burst of energy in her previously-lethargic self, and opened the door to see Mike smiling shyly at her. She smiled back, remembering in a flash that he had said he would come over Monday after school.

"Hey, come in. Fancy a drink?"

"Yeah, sure." He followed her down the hallway, seeming a little awkward now that he was away from the group.

"We have coke, lemonade, juice, water, tea, coffee… the usual. What'll you have?"

"Oh… just water, thanks."

"Just a sec, then. So how'd it go with Mr.… Jones, was it?"

"Oh, fine. Great, in fact. His exact words were," Mike frowned a little, remembering, "'A saviour! We have a saviour! She brings hope to us all!'"

Hermione snorted. "He sounds… interesting."

"Yeah," Mike said cheerfully. "He's a drama teacher too, in case you hadn't guessed. Don't worry, though… he's actually a pretty good debating coach."

Hermione laughed. "I'll take it you're not a drama person." She caught a glimpse of the clock as she handed Mike his drink and realised suddenly that it was half past seven and she was probably expected to cook dinner tonight. "Bugger! Sorry. I think I have to make dinner. Have you eaten yet?"

"Oh, no, but I'll eat at home, thanks."

"You sure?" Hermione asked. "I'm not a bad cook, and I promise I won't poison you."

Mike laughed. "Well, if you're sure…"

Hermione grinned. "Good. Then you can help me cook it." She laughed at the stricken look on his face. "Don't worry, I'm kidding. But you can keep me company while I do, if you don't mind."

They chatted companionably while Hermione cooked the meal, Mike keeping her amused with stories of his own cooking exploits and various fires he had put out. She made a mental note to never ask him to help her again. As she was finishing setting the table, Snape made an appearance downstairs. He stopped dead when he saw Mike. Mike looked up and smiled a little nervously at him.

"Good evening, um, Alexander is it? I'm Mike." He held out a hand, which Snape took after a few seconds of looking dubiously at it. Hermione glared at him. It looked like being-nice-to-people would be the next of their muggle lessons.

"Mike's joining us for dinner," Hermione informed him coolly. "You have no objections, I hope?"

"Would it make any difference if I had?" he asked her.

_What the hell is his problem?_ Hermione thought. _He was _perfectly _fine today. Well, as fine as Snape can be, anyway_. Aloud, she said, "Quite frankly, no. I'm sorry, Mike." _I had no idea he would be such a complete prick,_ she mentally added. _Why on earth has he reverted to form? Everything was going so well!_

"Should I go?" Mike asked, looking uneasily from Snape to Hermione.

"No," Hermione said firmly. "Tell you what, why don't we take our food to the living room? It's much nicer in there." With another glare at Snape for good measure, she picked up her food and drink and went into the living room, Mike following.

"What was all that?" Mike asked once they were settled. "It wasn't about me, was it?"

Hermione shook her head slowly at his astute observation, wondering how much to reveal to him. "We've never really got along," she said eventually. "He really hated my friends, so we didn't like him, and we had a sort of mutual hatred, I suppose. Now that we've moved here, I'm pretty much out of touch with all my old friends and he… well, he is too. I think he's begun to see me for who I am over the last few weeks, and now he's seeing me with friends again. I think it's probably bringing up memories of before we moved here, before my parents and aunt died," Hermione said, mentally adding, _and of spying on Voldemort. _"But," she said briskly, "He's just going to have to get used to it. And get over it."

Mike laughed at that. "That's not very sympathetic of you," he said. "Not that I can blame you, of course."

She smiled at him. "Well, I'm trying to get along with him. And it's working, too. It just annoys me… lots of little things about him, you know? He's so critical, and demanding, and he _cannot _admit when he's wrong. And then he won't apologise, and he's so full of himself, he's got absolutely _no _social skills, I _swear _he…" she trailed off, blushing. "Sorry about all that."

"No worries. I know what it feels like. Not quite to the extent you obviously do, but…"

"Thanks. Well, if you've finished, I can take you home, if you like. We bought a motorbike today!"

His eyes lit up. "Really? You have a license? You can drive it?"

She laughed and took Mike outside to show him.

Hermione woke up far too early the next morning, the birds causing a racket that was impossible to sleep through. She glanced at her watched and saw that it was just past six o'clock. Well, she could make a start on another NEWT paper and hopefully have it finished in time for Snape to mark. Not that she couldn't mark it herself, but Snape was much more inclined to be harsh and she would feel far more comfortable with his grades than the ones she gave to herself.

When Snape emerged from his room, Hermione was just putting the finishing touches on her paper. Before he could speak, she said, "Good morning, sir! I was wondering, would you mind marking this for me?" She held out the paper for him to take, holding her breath. The way she had spoken to him last night was probably enough for him to refuse… not, of course, that he hadn't deserved everything she'd said and more besides.

Snape merely nodded and calmly accepted the paper, causing Hermione to blink in surprise. _Well, that was easy_, she thought. _Maybe he's feeling guilty for last night and this is his way of apologising?_ That ludicrous idea nearly made her laugh aloud, and suppressed the urge to do so, not wanted to antagonise him so early in the morning, especially after he had agreed to do her a favour.

"Um… have you had breakfast yet, Alexander?" she asked him.

"No. If you would be so _kind _as to prepare it, I shall commence reading this… paper." Hermione merely nodded, wondering what he had been going to say instead of 'paper,' but not quite daring to ask. _It probably wasn't at all nice, whatever it was, _she reflected. _I wonder why he's being so civil this morning_. Whatever was making him act that way, she decided that she didn't want to break the peace so early in the morning, and so left to make breakfast. Crumpets would be quite nice, she decided.

**A/N I'm apologising now for the lack of Snape-in-leather in this chapter. It _will _come later, believe me (I'm not about to let that scene to go waste!) when, hopefully, Hermione's more inclined to be charitable in her description of him. Well, and appreciate the sight…. Anyway, please don't kill me for passing over that scene for the moment. **


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**A/N It's unbetaed, horribly late, and shorter than usual… but the next chapter (also unbetaed, I'm afraid) is coming out tomorrow! So don't kill me… it's all written and finished and just needs looking over once more. Unbetaed because I feel horribly guilty for taking so long to write this… so I'll send it to my beta (****XxgemxX, who is, in case you didn't know, amazing) now and repost once she's fixed whatever horrible mistakes are in here. And now I'll shut up and let you read, having taken as long as I have… I'm sorry!**

_Chapter Nineteen_

Hermione was enjoying a lazy morning, curled up in an armchair and basking in the warmth from the sunlight streaming in through the living room window. Professor Snape was sitting in the armchair opposite marking her papers. Hermione watched him with a smile. His brow was furrowed as he read through whatever it was she had written, and he would occasionally nod his head. His legs were over one arm of the chair and his back resting against the other, Hermione noticed in surprise. He really was quite a different person from the image he had projected at school. _And_, she realised, _He's much more relaxed now. Despite our argument last night, he's actually _comfortable _in my presence. I wonder… he must be so lonely_. She couldn't imagine hiding her true self from the world, day in, day out. Of course she often hid behind a mask, so to speak, and her true thoughts were frequently buried deep down, but the person she projected was a version of herself. Snape the Sarcastic Professor would _never _have unbent enough to sit sideways in an armchair, swinging his legs and biting on the end of a quill as he read one of her papers as a favour to her. She sighed a little.

Snape looked up from his paper with a smirk and said, "Tell me, Miss Granger, why, precisely, did you give me this paper?"

She looked at him blankly, confused. "Because I wanted you to mark it for me, sir," she replied.

"You have wasted both my time and your own, then. Surely you knew you would have full marks?" His question, despite his words, was not nasty. Perhaps, Hermione thought idly, it was merely force of habit, even as she blushed red at his compliment.

"I… thank you sir," she said.

"Why are you thanking me?" he enquired, with raised eyebrow.

She smiled a little and said, "For wasting your time on my paper."

He nodded in acknowledgement. Then he said, "As there is obviously no point in revising further until the exams are upon us, I see no reason to adhere to the study schedule I set up a few weeks ago. I am in the midst of a research project at the moment. You will be useful in preparing ingredients… we shall occupy ourselves with that or any other _academic_," and he stressed the word, looking pointedly at her, "endeavour you wish to pursue."

Hermione saw the meaning despite the words, and nearly fell off her chair. "I… thank you, sir!" she said, with poorly concealed glee. "I'd love to help you with your research!" She was slightly annoyed that he only thought her capable of preparing ingredients, until she realised that he knew her abilities and would most probably, if she knew Snape, make good use of them. He just obviously wouldn't actually say that he would make use of them.

Or maybe he really did plan on using her just to cut up ingredients. Maybe he thought if he did that then she would work harder to prove to him that she was useful and he would get more work out of her that may. Or possibly he was just saying it to pick a fight. Realising that trying to psychoanalyse Snape could take the rest of her life, Hermione decided that she should probably just give up now.

"Good," Snape was saying. "We'll start now, then. We will go to the lab; I have a rather large number of different ingredients that need chopping finely."

Hermione, much to her annoyance, was put to menial work while Snape worked on whatever it was he was working on. He wouldn't even tell her what he was making, saying only, and curtly, that he was experimenting with something that could help "the war effort." Then he snapped at her to continue grinding the roots, something she silently did. If she was unusually vigorous in grinding said roots, well, he couldn't know it was his own head she was visualising under the pestle.

After a rather silent lunch, which Hermione spent ignoring Snape and feeling annoyed because she rather suspected that he didn't even realise she was ignoring him, they went back to the lab and continued working. By half past two Hermione had had enough. She had a crick in her neck, cramps in her fingers, and was thoroughly sick of crushing, grinding, slicing, chopping, and powdering ingredients.

"Professor, I think I'll stop for the day if you don't mind," she said, quite politely, she thought.

He appeared to be quite shocked as he straightened and scowled at her. "And why is it that you feel you can suddenly leave?" he asked irritably.

"I have debating at the college in about an hour, remember?" she asked him.

"College?"

"Sixth form college. School. In town? That was why Mike came over yesterday, to tell me that the teacher had agreed to letting me join…"

"And what makes you think you have permission to go gallivanting about in town?" he asked her icily.

_Oh shit_, she thought. _I didn't ask him, did I?_ "Why would I _need _permission, sir?" she asked him boldly.

He looked at her as if she had suddenly sprouted a second head. "Because you are in my charge, under my care, your safety entrusted to me, and Voldemort wants you dead," he told her flatly.

"I'm not a child!" she returned, annoyed with him and feeling slightly guilty that she hadn't at least told him before hand, even if she really didn't think that she ought to have asked permission. "I probably should have told you, sir, but I don't need your permission to do as I please."

"You most certainly do, Miss Granger! I am your professor, _I _am in charge here, and Professor Dumbledore entrusting you to _my _care."

"We're not at Hogwarts anymore!" she snapped back. "You're not even teaching me anything! You've put me to work… _hardly _educational or a good use of my time! What do you want from me? I'm _eighteen_, professor. I'm an adult!"

"Then why don't you act like one?" he shouted at her.

"I hardly have an excellent role model in that respect, do I?" she shouted back at him. "I'm stopping _now_. I'm going to town, I'm going to the debating, and I'll be back some time tonight. Goodbye!" She stomped from the room, furious and still feeling a little guilty. Her exit was ruined, however, by an "Accio Hermione Granger!" from Snape. In shock and horror Hermione felt herself being pulled towards Professor Snape, where she fell against him and they both fell to the floor in a jumble of arms and legs. They straightened out, each struggling against the other to be free, before finally getting to their feet.

"What," Hermione spat, "gave you reason to think that you had _any _right to summon me like an object?" She was now so angry she could barely see straight, all guilt forgotten.

"You can't go!"

"You can't stop me!"

"You forget, Miss Granger, the thousands of spells I have at my disposal. Any one of them would suffice to-" but Hermione was too angry to listen.

"What, spells you learnt when you were my age? When you joined the death eaters, professor? Dark spells? I'm not stupid enough to do something like that. I'm not joining secret dark organisations! It's a bloody debating club and I'm going!"

He looked like she had slapped him, but she was too angry to even think of feeling guilty. He opened his mouth to come back with something and before he could even blink she had whipped her own wand out and, without thinking, cast a petrificus totalus on him. Snape froze, a snarl of fury on his face, and he slowly fell to the floor, missing the softly bubbling cauldron behind him by centimetres.

"Oh, _shit_," Hermione said aloud, before running from the room. _I am in _so _much trouble, _she thought.


	20. Chapter Twenty

**A/N I'm really quite proud of myself for how short a time there was between these two chapters. Of course, the interval between the last two chapters was horribly long (again, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!), so I probably owe it to you. There's a (small) chance I'll have the next chapter out before the end of the week, but otherwise it could well be up to a month, I'm afraid. My life has become annoyingly complicated recently. **

**As to the chapter… first of all, I just want to say please don't kill me! There is definitely a beginning of **a **romance in this chapter but… well, again, please don't kill me. I'm going with the two steps forwards one step back approach… because honestly, would **you **have fallen in love with one of your teachers right out of high school? I know Snape is completely different, but still, it needs to move slowly. No, please don't kill me. As a peace offering, I'll include Snape in leather next chapter! And Hermione will like it (well, who wouldn't?)! I promise! And I'll try really hard to get it out before Friday… but no promises on that one. Anyway, I'll shut up now, after one last comment… thanks to XxgemxX for betaing this, and for doing it amazingly quickly. Right, now I'll leave you to the chapter. **

_Chapter Twenty _

Hermione ran up to her bedroom and immediately began pacing, biting on her fingernails. He was going to kill her. He was already angry because she's hadn't told him about the debating thing. Admittedly he'd gone all high-and-mighty on her and wanted to dictate her life to her… but she still shouldn't have attacked him! And she must have hurt him so much with the things she had said… she hadn't meant them, but… _ohh, God. _She wondered whether or not she ought to go and free him now, and then shuddered at the thought. _No, _she decided, _I'll let him cool down for a while. Just while I get ready to go out… _

She brushed out her hair and retied it, not even noticing that her hands were shaking. Her thoughts were with the man lying stunned in the potions tent… she had attacked him! He was lying on the floor! She had attacked him! She nervously changed into fresh clothes, tucking her wand firmly into the pocket of her jeans, and looked at herself in the mirror. She didn't see a scared child looking back from the glass, but a relatively self-assured young woman. Hermione wasn't quite sure when that had happened, when her mirror had started lying to her, but she knew the girl in the mirror couldn't be herself. She was terrified. But she should find Snape. And set him free, before he became angrier. If that was possible… _Oh God. _

As she slowly walked down the stairs, Hermione found herself wondering what was wrong with the man. She'd had a good time with him this weekend, for the most part. He'd been almost friendly, and despite from the routine snappiness that was really a part of his nature (and sometimes quite amusing, really), she had enjoyed his company. Then yesterday evening, after he saw Mark, he'd reverted back to his previous nasty self. He'd been slightly better this morning, but nowhere near as relaxed as he had been on Sunday, and Monday morning. And then this afternoon he had reverted to full arrogant prick mode, all sneering and domineering and full of himself, acting about as superior as he could get. She shivered, suddenly remembering the look of fury in his eyes when she had said what she'd said and then petrified him.

Her stumbling feet carried her to the tent while her mind was occupied with the problem of Severus Snape. All too quickly she was in front of his prone form, still exactly where she had last seen it, his eyes looking, if possible, even more angry.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to him. "I was angry and you weren't listening to me. I probably shouldn't have petrified you… but if I undo the charm now you won't listen to me. So I'll talk now and then you can shout as much as you want once I've undone the hex, okay?" She took a deep breath, and began. "I'm eighteen. I'm legally adult and… yes, I know this isn't exactly an example of mature adult behaviour, but I had to do something to get through to you. I have to be able to make my own decisions, and it's not like going into town three times a week to the local school is going to hurt me. It's just… I need an escape. And I need someone who doesn't treat me like a three year old all the time; you're all I've got left of the wizarding world, professor, and it's really hard for me if you treat me like a three-year-old.

"I'm fairly sure I've just ruined whatever relationship, or trust, or amicability, or whatever it is we might have built up over the past week. I didn't mean what I said… I always manage to put my foot in it and your past was the first weapon I came up with. I shouldn't have said it. I didn't mean it. I'll say it again, I'm sorry. I really am. I… don't know what to do. I'm going to take the hex off now. And you can yell at me if you want to."

She undid it and then sat on a lab stool, awaiting his anger. Snape clambered to his feet and just looked at her, not saying a word. Then he too, sat on a stool opposite hers.

"I apologise, Miss Granger," he said at last. Hermione almost, quite literally, fell off her stool.

"I… what?" she asked, blinking at him.

"I apologise," he repeated softly. "Your actions were unmerited and juvenile but perhaps their basis was sound. You have your freedom. I request, however, that you inform me when you intend on leaving the house, at least a few days in advance wherever possible." Then, unbelievably, he turned back to his potion.

"You're not… angry?" she asked.

"I have never in my life been as angry with you as I am now," he responded. Hermione suddenly went cold. "Or as shocked. Go to your debating club. I have nothing more to say."

Hermione left, tears streaming down her face. It was worse than she had thought it would be, and she didn't quite know why. She had lost something, today. Something was gone, and she knew it would be a long time before she won it back.

Hermione arrived at the school sombre but for now at least, relatively calm. Mike was waiting for her outside the building, and she smiled sadly when she saw him, turning off the engine and pocketing the keys, leaving her helmet hanging from the bike; nobody would steal it, she was certain, and even if they did she had placed enough tracking spells on the bike and the helmet that they would be easy to find again.

"What's wrong, Jane?" Mike asked immediately. "You look like somebody's died."

"It's… nothing," she said, plastering a false smile on her face.

"Really." He was sceptical, and there was worry in his face.

"Can we talk about it later, please?" she asked him, tears threatening to fall again. She didn't need to break down here, not now. "Afterwards? We're almost late," she added practically.

"Of course," Mike replied, still looking at her with concern. "It's just in here… follow me."

Hermione managed to forget a little over the next hour, learning as much about this new, formal kind of debate as she could. Preparing to argue both sides of an issue was new to her, as was the strict form that had to be followed, but Hermione liked rules. They made everything so much more simple. You knew where you stood with rules. She swallowed, hard. She had just broken them all.

"Right," Mike said to her after they'd left the classroom. "Something's wrong and it's not debating - Jones loved you, by the way. Come on Jane, cheer up. Tell you what, we'll go somewhere a little more private and you can tell me as much… or as little… about it as you want? Get it off your chest, okay?"

"I'm sorry to be so strange. I guess I'm just-" she started, but Mike interrupted her.

"Don't you dare say you're just tired," he told her severely. "Something happened between you and your uncle either last night or this morning and, by the looks of it, it's something big. I really won't force you to tell me, but you have to talk to someone," he said practically. "Through here," he added, guiding her outside and around the building until they came to a large tree, with huge spreading branches. Mike sat on the ground, leaning against the trunk, and gestured for Hermione to do the same.

"Now," he said. "What's wrong?"

"He trusted me," she said morosely. "We were in it together… this exile from everything, I suppose," she said. "He could've done anything at all to me… I know he hated me… but he didn't because he was there to look after me. And then he was angry because I forgot to tell him about tonight and we were shouting and then I…" she realised she was speaking to a muggle and broke off the sentence, before saying, "I brought up things, about his past and about… about his wife, things that I shouldn't've have brought up. And then I…" what was the equivalent? "I slapped him," she said at last. "He's never touched me before," she added. "I don't think he'll ever forgive me… we'd reached a sort of friendship before, too. I think I've lost that completely. And whatever of his trust I had earned."

She closed her eyes, and felt the hot tears once more making their way down her face. Then arms made their way around her waist, and she opened her eyes and turned her head, looking back at Mike. He smiled sympathetically at her and pulled her close to him, giving her a sort of backwards hug.

"I'm sorry, Jane," he said, leaning down a little so that his chin rested on her shoulder. "I don't pretend to understand, but it must have been fairly big. If you need anything, I'll be here for you." He squeezed her gently. She leant her head against his, her tears drying.

"Thank you," she said at last.


	21. Chapter Twenty One

**A/N I honestly don't know if you'll love me or hate me for this chapter. Probably a bit of both. Sorry that the romance is taking so long… there's a little romance here (oh dear God, please don't hurt me…), but I suspect not quite what you're looking for. It'll come, people, it'll come. And there **is **something many of you have been waiting a while for in this chapter, so I hope you enjoy. Thanks to my wonderful beta as per normal, and, without further rambling, I present to you my chapter. **

_Chapter Twenty-one_

"I should probably go home," Hermione said at last, reluctantly.

"So should I," Mike agreed. He didn't move his arms from around her though, and didn't seem to be planning on moving at all. _He isn't like Harry or Ron_, Hermione realised. _He certainly isn't comforting me as they would. Maybe… but no,_ she thought. _Now really isn't the time to be thinking about relationships._ Nevertheless, her heart skipped a beat. _Did _he like her? She'd never had a proper relationship with a boy before. Granted, he could be just being nice, but…

She leant her head back further, and tilted it so that she could look at him properly. _He's certainly attractive, _she mused as she felt the jolt in her stomach. _And intelligent and interesting.__ Yes, he's a muggle, but it's not like I'm looking for marriage or anything. And wouldn't it be fun?_ He was looking back at her now, a rather intense look in his eyes. She smiled a little, softly, and then realised that she really ought to get back home. _He's only being nice, _she scolded herself, _and really, you should be worrying about Snape, not thinking about your nonexistent love life. _

"I really should get back," she said.

"I know. But I don't really feel like moving," Mike replied. Hermione laughed.

"Me neither," she admitted. "But we should, really."

"Okay," he said heavily. Then, with that peculiar intense look still in his eyes, he asked, "Jane?"

"Yes?" She wished her stomach would stop doing the jolting thing. It was really quite annoying.

"Can I… may I kiss you?"

He'd asked her. He hadn't kissed her; he'd _asked _if he could. She hadn't been expecting that; either a kiss, or not a kiss, but not a question asking permission.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't… you're upset and I've only just met you… I'm sorry, forget I said it, I'll just…" Mike stammered.

"No, no," Hermione said, interrupting him. "I think I'd like it if you kissed me," she said quite shyly. _What kind of a reply what that? _She thought furiously. _'I think I'd like it,' God, he's going to think I'm a complete idiot! _But he interrupted her inner scolding by pressing his lips to hers in a gentle, completely chaste kiss. He drew back and looked at her nervously. Hermione smiled at him reassuringly, biting her tongue to keep from saying something even more stupid like 'thanks.' Instead, she leaned forward once more and pressed her lips to his in a kiss that lasted quite a while longer and was decidedly less chaste. When she pulled back this time, she couldn't keep from grinning at him.

"Come on then," he said, disentangling himself from her and standing up. The tips of his ears were red, Hermione noticed. "We should go." He grabbed her hands and pulled her up from the ground. He let go of her left hand but kept a hold on her right, and she let him do it.

"D'you want me to drop you off home on the bike?" she asked, remembering his look of adoration at it yesterday.

"Would you?" he asked, his eyes lit up like a three year old with a new toy. Hermione just laughed and nodded.

Hermione's good spirits faded on the trip back to the house. She was worried and nervous, but more than either of the two she felt guilty. Guilty for what she had said and done, guilty for hurting Snape (and she suspected that she _had _hurt him, perhaps even more than she had angered him), and guilty for allowing herself to be comforted by Mike when she had no right to feel comforted. _But_, she told herself firmly, _what's done is done. Now I'll just go inside and do what I can to make amends._ She pulled up in front of the house, took the keys from the bike, and went inside. Snape turned out to be in the sitting room, reading a book.

"Hello," she said softly as she came in. Snape looked up from his book. He found his bookmark, placed it carefully in the right page and closed it gently, placing it on the table.

"Hello," he replied. Then, "How was debating?"

"I don't know," she said honestly, taking a seat on the sofa. "I was too worried to pay much attention."

"Worried?" he asked, eyebrow raised. "You thought I would harm you upon your return?" Hermione flinched.

"Worried that I'd ruined everything," she said. "Of course I don't think you'd physically harm me." At the look of disbelief in his eyes, she said, "Really! I was… worried that I'd hurt you. I mean, I _know _I hurt you but I was afraid I couldn't fix it. And I know I can't fix everything but I want to be able to fix this and I was stupid. Everything was working out okay, too. I mean, we fought, of course, but that's not exactly going to change and we were getting better and I'd said less stupid things and you were being a little nicer and we were getting along and then I was dumb and you rose to it and I rose to that and it just… I'm babbling. Sorry."

"Yes," Snape said. He sighed and then changed the subject. "Neither of us is, I suspect, in the mood for cooking tonight. Shall we go out?"

Hermione wondered if that was an oblique way of saying he forgave her. She doubted it.

"I'd love to go out," she told him.

"Wait." He looked at her suspiciously. "You took the bike to town today?"

"Yes…"

"You're not wearing the leather clothing you told me was so important."

"I… oh, I completely forgot!"

He scowled at her. "You didn't cast a shielding charm either, did you?"

"No," she admitted. "I was sort of worried and not thinking straight."

"You would make an appalling spy," he informed her. "Get changed, and we'll go."

"Just a second then." She ran upstairs to do as Snape said, and he followed afterwards at a more leisurely pace. Hermione wondered if everything was okay between then. _It's probably not completely fixed, _she decided. _But it is on the mend._ She smirked, then. _Who says Gryffindor honesty doesn't help?_

Hermione found that she was actually changed and ready to go before Snape was. She eyed herself critically in the full-length mirror downstairs while waiting for him to appear. Then she giggled; she looked like… well, a biker chick. Now all she needed…

When Snape came down the stairs a few minutes later she didn't even notice his clothes. The expression on his face was priceless, and Hermione was doubled up laughing.

"What… what… did you _do_?" he asked, both eyebrows raised almost to his hairline.

"I thought I might as well go all the way," she told him, grinning.

"But… your eyebrow? And all those chains?"

"You haven't seen my tongue yet," she said, grinning, and then proceeded to stick said body part out at him.

"I am… shocked, Miss Granger," Snape said. Was that a glint of amusement in his eyes? She was certain his lips were twitching.

"That's mainly why I did it," she admitted. Then she realised that he was wearing the much anticipated leather that he had point-blank refused to show her in the shop. She made a big show of looking him up and down and… The first thought to come to her mind, she reflected, should probably _not_ have been "yum." But… well, the sentiment certainly fit. He looked gorgeous; something she felt ought to have worried her.

"Is there something wrong, Miss Granger?" Snape asked her, still sounding a little shell-shocked at her embellishments to her outfit.

_Stop checking your Potions master out!_ Hermione scolded herself. _But my God does he look good… _She shook her head in response to his question, and then quickly got a hold of herself. "Sorry, Professor," she said. _Just admiring the view, _she thought, saying aloud, "Nothing's wrong. Wait a sec while I get rid of the metal." A few flicks of her wand later and the assorted piercings and heavy jewellery were gone.

"Would you like to cast the shielding charm, Professor?" she asked him. "Then we can go." He nodded and did so, and then held the door for her, allowing her to precede him. She didn't even realise his new courtesy towards her, as she was too busy being upset that she didn't have the chance to look at the leather without his knowing.

"I think I'd better drive this, Professor," she said. "Is that okay?"

"If you wish, Miss Granger. But you will need to show me how to work this… motorbike… some time in the near future. I believe I have a _date_," and he spat the word out as if it tasted bad, "tomorrow night. I shall need the bike then."

"Of course, sir. We can work on it tomorrow. Oh, and about Mike… do you mind if he starts coming over more? I probably should have asked you before he turned up yesterday." _Please agree and don't ask questions_, she thought.

"I suppose," Snape said grudgingly.

"Really, he's not that bad," Hermione said, starting up the engine. "I quite like him, in fact." Her thoughts drifted back to the afternoon, and her stomach gave another little jolt. _I really do_, she thought. "Let's get going," she said briskly. "Hold on."


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

**A/N I know, it's horribly late. But I've been busy non-stop quite literally since the last chapter came out, what with IB work, weekend trips to England, debate tournaments, badminton, jazz practise, and assorted other time-consuming things. It's also a surprisingly short chapter, mainly coz it's filler stuff for things to come, but it's necessary. With luck the next will be out within the week, otherwise you're looking at late April, early May. Sorry about all this… but I will finish this story, if it kills me. And it could. Anyway, I'll shut up and let you read. Review, please!**

_Chapter Twenty-Two_

The trip to town was largely uneventful. It was Snape's first trip on the bike, and the litany of expletives behind her kept Hermione amused for most of the trip. Snape, having originally told her that he did _not_ need to hold onto her for balance, thank-you-very-much, was clinging to Hermione within the first five minutes, grasping her tightly around the waist.

"Really, Alexander," Hermione said, loudly over the noise of the engine and trying not to laugh, "Muggles do this all the time. It's quite safe."

"Muggles don't ride behind a teenager without a real license," he retorted. "I find it progressively more difficult to believe that we will be both alive by the end of this trip."

"We'll be there soon," she reassured him. True to her word, they arrived not long afterwards, at a rather up-market restaurant because Hermione felt certain that if she didn't expose him to some of the more classy aspects of muggle culture he would rebel and choose to live the next few months in complete seclusion.

"So what do you think?" she asked him, a little nervously.

"Not quite your usual tastes, is it?" Snape asked, with that eyebrow raised yet again and an annoying smirk hovering at the corners of his mouth. "Can it be that Hermione Granger has selected a restaurant without the prices of assorted fish scrawled across the wall?"

Hermione smiled a relieved smile, pleased that he seemed back to normal. Still, she retorted, "We could always find the fish and chip shop if you'd prefer. And I hear that the pub does a good ham sandwich, if you're interested."

"I think not," Snape returned, grimacing. "But… can we afford this?" He said it as if it pained him; Hermione had been handling most money matters, since Snape was fairly clueless with muggle money.

"Mostly," Hermione said. She grinned, "We're paying for the bike in instalments, which means that we still have plenty of money to spare. And the end of the month is next week, anyway. It won't be long until the ministry gives us another small fortune."

"Very well then. Shall we enter?"

"Of course. But maybe we should fix the clothes before we go in? I don't think the typical biker leather will fit well with this kind of restaurant."

"Then perhaps to somewhere we will not be seen?" Snape suggested pointedly.

"No, Alexander, I thought I'd do it out in the open here," Hermione said, rolling her eyes at him. This way, just around the corner there's a little alley. We'll put the bikes there too, and secure them with a charm."

"Very well, then."

They eventually made it into the restaurant, dressed formally enough to be admitted. It was, well, 'posher' than she had thought, Hermione decided with awe, the tasteful and expensive decorations, the secluded individual tables, and the dimmed lights in intricate candelabra.

"Well-chosen, Jane," Snape said approvingly.

"Why thank you," Hermione said, grinning up at him. He gave her a startled, wide-eyed look, before retreating back to his normal closed appearance. Meanwhile, the waiter had lead them to a table and was offering a wine menu.

"Thank you," Snape told him curtly.

Hermione sighed in relief. The meal had been a success. Their food had been excellent, the conversation surprisingly easy and unusually interesting, and Hermione felt certain that the air had cleared between the two of them. She wasn't quite sure how tomorrow in the makeshift Potions lab would go, but this evening had gone well, so hopefully tomorrow would take its cue from there.

Snape paid, and Hermione felt a flash of pride in him at his lack of difficulty in doing so. Then, as they were walking out of the restaurant, she caught sight of a sign in the window, reading, "_Help wanted. No experience necessary. Inquire inside for details_." Busy reading the sign and plotting ways to get Snape to agree to let her work there, she didn't realise that Snape had been accosted by one of the women he had "apologised" to.

"Alexander!" she cried.

"Tanya," Snape returned formally.

"Are we still on for our date tomorrow night?" she asked, in a decidedly simpering tone, throwing suspicious glances at Hermione. Hermione choked back a laugh… was she being considered _competition_?

"Of course. I could hardly forget such an important engagement with a lovely lady such as yourself." Tanya beamed, and Hermione managed to turn her second laugh into a coughing fit. Was the woman completely oblivious to Snape's sarcasm? He was doing it expertly, though, she thought with admiration.

"I'll see you tomorrow then, Alexander," Tanya said, with a wave and a giggle, and then was gone.

Snape turned to Hermione, a deadly look in his eyes, and said, "Do not say one _word_."

"Me?" Hermione asked him innocently. "I wouldn't dream of it."

Snape grunted and proceeded to transform his clothes back into their leather counterparts for riding the bike, and then did Hermione's for her. "Are we ready to go?" he asked gruffly.

"I think so." She jumped on the bike, and allowed Snape to get on behind her and hold her waist once more. His warm grip was firm and surprisingly comforting. _What's wrong with me?_ Hermione wondered. _First I think he looks sexy in the biker leather, and now he's holding me and I _like _it! I must be crazy. Damned teenage hormones._ And she wouldn't even see Mike until the next debate practice, on Thursday, to get this craziness out of her system.


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

**A/N Early May, like I said… aren't you proud of me? I hope you like this chapter… it's extra long because I felt guilty for making you wait… and I wrote the whole thing between 2 and 3 am, so bear with me. There's just one thing… although I'm mostly a Brit, I live in the US and the style of debate I do is an American one (LD, if anyone cares), which is completely different to the debating I went to all of three times when I was in the British school system… what I'm trying to say here is that I have no clue whatsoever if my guesses as to English high school/sixth form debating are accurate. So **please **feel free to point out any holes in what I'm saying, or any criticism in general. If anyone wants to tell me how the debate actually works, I'd be eternally grateful. All I remember is arguing a point beginning with "This house believes," or something, and there being two teams. Thank you to Gem, who beta'd this for me… it's reposted, incidentally, in case that confused anyone. And now I'll shut up and let you all read. **

"We shall stop for the afternoon," Snape declared abruptly, straightening up from peering at a potion. He began to pack away unused potion ingredients, and motioned for her to do the same.

"What, already?" Hermione asked. "But it's only…" she glanced at her watch, "three o'clock."

"Yes, but we have achieved all we can for the day," he informed her. "I must go to town tonight."

"You need two and a half hours to get ready?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow at him and trying to stifle a giggle at the thought of Snape spending that much time preparing for a date.

"No," he said scathingly, glaring at her. "I must learn to operate the motorbike before I leave."

"Oh, so you want me to teach you?" Hermione asked, rolling her eyes at his obstinacy. _He couldn't just have come out and asked me, could he?_ she thought irritably.

"If you would be so kind." Was he being sarcastic, or not? It worried Hermione that she couldn't tell.

"So… now, or a bit later, Alexander?" The name slipped from her tongue before she realised it, and she blushed a little. "Professor Snape, I mean."

"Now, Miss Granger," he said irritably. "Otherwise there would have been no point in stopping the experimentation early. As to the names… perhaps it would be best if we referred to one another by our middle names in private as well as public. It will help to ensure that we don't forget outside of this house."

"Okay then… Alexander. Um, well I'll go outside and get the bike while you change."

"While I change?"

"Unless you'd like to learn to ride in those robes," she told him.

"Perhaps you have a point. I shall see you in a moment, then," he said, and swept from the room, said robes billowing around him. _He certainly has a flair for the dramatic,_ she noted with amusement.

By the time Hermione had finished cleaning up the potions lab and made her way to the front of the house Snape was standing outside scowling at her.

"You took your time," he observed acidly.

"I was cleaning up the lab," she retorted, "seeing that you left it all to me."

"Shall we begin, then?" he asked, ignoring her.

"I suppose."

It was a trying afternoon. Snape, it appeared, had never learnt to ride a bicycle, let alone a motorcycle, before. That went some way to explaining his worry the night before, but it was beginning to exasperate Hermione no end, and when they had crash-landed in the flowerbeds for the third time she reached the end of her patience.

"You're just going to have to practise," she told him. "You can't suddenly become expert in a day…"

"More muggle lessons," Snape said grumpily. Hermione laughed.

"It's worthwhile. And you've really improved recently, too." Snape snorted. "Really," she insisted. "Anyway, what's the plan for tonight? Um…" She stalled for a minute, trying to decide how to say what she wanted to tactfully. "You probably can't go around the town just yet…"

"Thank you for pointing out the obvious, Miss Granger. Jane."

"You're welcome, professor," Hermione said impulsively, smiling at him. "Um… well, why don't you drive it to the edge of town, and I'll take you from there to the restaurant, or wherever you're taking Tanya."

"The Cinema, I believe she decided. I have not seen that particular restaurant anywhere in the town, but it should not be too difficult to find." Hermione burst out laughing. At Snape's raised eyebrow, she only laughed harder.

"What do you find so amusing, Miss Granger?" he snapped at her. Taking a deep breath, Hermione got a hold on herself.

"Um… sir? The cinema is… well, it's not a restaurant. You remember the play we saw in London? It's kind of like that. It's basically a story acted out and then muggles record it and show it on a screen."

"What is it you are attempting to say?" he asked her tersely.

"That's it's not a restaurant. Ohh dear… she'll never believe that you haven't been to the cinema before." Hermione sighed, "We should have said you were Amish, instead of just a recluse. At least that way we could have explained away the stuff you don't know about technology. Okay… the movies are like… like a play. Muggles have cameras too, but they have two kinds… one that takes an unmoving picture, and one that can record everything that's happening and play it back later. It's not like wizarding pictures, because it shows exactly what happened at the time, not what may or may not have happened before and after an event. Anyway, a play is recorded on this camera, and then played back in front of an audience on a projector… you know what a projector is, right?"

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. "I do, Jane," he sighed. "Very well. What exactly will this cinema entail? What will she expect me to do?"

"Well, you queue up to buy tickets for whatever movie you decide to see. I suggest you let her choose… that way she'll think you're just being nice and you don't have to show that you don't know anything about it. So you go up to the ticket seller person and buy two tickets together… ask for seats up the back," she added impulsively, grinning internally. "You'll get a better view that way. And then you go in and you buy her popcorn and a drink and chocolate, or whatever, depending on what she wants. Then you can go into the cinema, find your seats, and watch the ads. Before the movie starts."

"I… see. And what after it finishes?"

"I expect she'll drag you off to a restaurant somewhere. Let her choose again, and pay for her."

"I'm a wizard, Miss Granger, not stupid. It would not be taking her out as an apology if she paid. And… do you think she will accept all this as an apology?" Hermione felt a flash of guilt.

"She should, Professor. And it's late enough now that you should probably think of getting changed so we can go."

"If you have _quite _finished patronising me, Miss Granger?"

"Sorry sir," she said blushing. Snape merely grunted and went back into the house.

She met him at the edge of the forest at ten o'clock that night as they planned. Snape was waiting for her, a dark scowl on his face when she arrived.

"It didn't go well?" she asked innocently, moving forward slightly so that he could climb on behind her… she wasn't about to let him drive when it was this dark, and especially not in the mood he seemed to be in.

"Well?" he muttered into her ear as he climbed on behind her. She immediately got goosebumps all over her body, and shivered slightly despite the fact that she was well wrapped up against the December air. "That, Miss Granger," he continued, "would be a _severe _understatement. _Tanya _decided to choose what I believe is termed a 'horror movie.' She felt the need to grip my arm so tightly that I believe the blood flow is _still _not back to normal. She whimpered. She cringed. She climbed _on top of me _to hide her eyes from the movie. And then at dinner she chatted incessantly. And when I walked her home she _invited me to stay the night!_"

Hermione choked. "You… you said no, then?" she asked faintly.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK?" he shouted at her. She jumped.

"Ow, that hurt, Alexander," she said reproachfully. "I'm sorry… but at least you won't have to see her again, right?" Snape shifted uncomfortably behind her. "Right?" she asked again, trying hard to keep the smile from showing on her face. _He hadn't agreed again, had he… _she wondered, laughter rising inside her.

"I could not refuse without seeming rude…. Which would, I suspect, have led to another 'apology.' I much prefer wizarding culture, Miss Granger," he said almost morosely. "At least in the wizarding world one is not obligated to appease everyone."

"You're not in the muggle world either," Hermione said gently, feeling really guilty now. "But we can't afford to offend too many people in the town. People talk, and we really don't need extra attention."

"Thank you for reminding me, Miss Granger," he told her sarcastically.

"Right… well, shall we go?" she asked. He moved behind her, grasping her waist tightly once more.

"Yes." The grip felt good, and Hermione found herself blushing in the darkness. She wasn't sure _where _these sudden strange thoughts had come from, but they were terrifying. _Hormones, _she told herself, _it's all hormones. I'm eighteen years old, never had a real boyfriend, and I'm living in close proximity to an attractive man_. She sighed, wondering exactly when Snape had become attractive to her. _Probably about the time he put on the leather…_ she mused. She shook her head, trying to control her thoughts, and spent the rest of the trip home concentrating on driving the bike, doing her best to ignore Snape's warm hands on her waist and the somehow reassuring weight of him behind her.

Hermione arrived at the school the next day feeling far more composed than she had two days previously and quite looking forward both to the debate and seeing Mike. She wandered in, looking for the classroom, and found Mike inside waiting for her.

"Sorry I wasn't outside," he said, "but it's _really _cold out there. You feeling better now?"

"Much, thanks. We sorted things out." She smiled up at him and, for some reason, the tips of his ears turned red. Hermione remembered the last time that had happened, and her smile turned into a grin… she wondered if there would be a repeat of that experience today, and then scolded herself for being so easily distracted.

"Shall we go, then?" Mike asked a little awkwardly, and Hermione realised that she had just been standing there grinning, like an idiot at him.

"Oh… yeah, sorry, I was a little distracted."

"Don't worry. Oh, Melissa asked me to ask you if you're still up for Saturday. We thought we'd skip the movie this time and just meet up in the park, around three-ish, to decide what we want to do."

"Oh, thanks, I'd forgotten. Yeah, that sounds great."

"Good. So… are you coming tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah… we have tournaments on Fridays, remember?"

"Oh… will I be ready by then, do you think?"

"I don't see why not. We're doing a practice debate today, I think. D'you have a case?"

"Not much… I don't have any solid research, anyway. Our books are fairly limited, and there's no internet. I'm not quite sure what to do…"

"We'll figure something out. Jones'll have ideas… he really liked you last week, did I tell you?"

"Yeah," Hermione said, blushing. "I'm glad. But," she glanced at her watch and doubled her pace, "if we don't get there soon he won't be so happy with us anymore. I got the feeling that's he's not the kind of person to like it if you're late."

She went to the public library after debate, at Jones' suggestion. Mike came along, telling her he wanted another ride on the motorbike and offering to help her since she hadn't done an actual debate against "real competition before."

"It's good you came, actually," he observed, "because we'd've been short a person tomorrow. I'm not sure _how _that would've worked, actually… we'd probably have had to get someone from Year 11 to fill in."

She laughed, saying, "So you had ulterior motives for asking me to come, then?"

"I always have ulterior motives," he informed her, grinning. "More than one, in this case."

"Oh?" she asked.

"You'll see," he told her. "Anyway, let's get started before the library closes."


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

**A/N Hiya… apologies, as usual, for the lateness of this, and I wanted to thank Gem for betaing, of course. There's a slim possiblity that you'll get another chapter of this and one of **Adhesion **tomorrow or the next day, but after that I'm in Australia and won't be back until August. Tell me what you think of this chapter… I have a horrible feeling that this story is becoming painfully clichéd; I keep wincing when I read parts of it, which I'm fairly sure isn't a good sign. So please give me any thoughts you have about it, or pretty much anything, really. And now I'll shut up and let you get to the story. Sorry it's late, summer or not I've been ridiculously busy recently. **

_Chapter Twenty-Four_

The trip to the library was highly successful. Mike invited Hermione back to his house after they'd finished at the library, to practise the case, but it was past seven o'clock and Hermione had a feeling that Snape would already be angry with her for staying out so late, so she reluctantly declined.

"Your uncle's an ogre," Mike said, half laughing half seriously. Then he realised that, ogre or not, he was still Hermione's uncle, and blushed. "I mean… that is…"

Hermione laughed. "Don't worry about it, he _is _pretty ogre-ish. Well, he was. He's getting better, actually. I think it's being away from… where everything happened."

Mike nodded, but didn't say anything, obviously not wanting to intrude on what he thought was a touchy subject. "So… I guess we should go home now?" he asked awkwardly.

"Yeah, I s'pose so. You want a ride home?" She laughed yet again at the hopeful puppy-dog look in his eyes.

"Please?" he asked.

"'Course. In fact, why don't you come over this weekend and I'll teach you to ride it?"

"Really?" he asked excitedly, and Hermione grinned at him. He was like Ron with a new broomstick, so completely thrilled. Suddenly she wasn't feeling at all happy anymore.

"Of course. Anyway, we should really get a move on. C'mon, I'll take you home."

Mike's arms around her waist were comforting and his body against her back felt good… _but not as good as Snape's did_, her treacherous mind reminded her. She ignored the thought and enjoyed Mike's embrace as she drove him home. As he climbed off the bike and handed her his helmet he leaned forward a little and kissed her neck.

"See you tomorrow?" he murmured against her skin, before drawing back a little to face her, eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Of course," Hermione agreed a little breathlessly, all thoughts of Snape flying out the window. _Nobody had ever kissed her neck before,_ was the one thought she could come up with, _and she had actually _liked_it_.

"D'you want to maybe see a movie afterwards, or have dinner, or something?"

"Sure," she said, and then grinned at him. "I'd love to."

"Good." He kissed her mouth this time, quickly and chastely. "I'll see you then." With another smile at her he walked into his house, leaving Hermione a little dazed. She wondered absently where the shy Mike had gone, and then headed off home, still a little out of it.

"Where have you been?" Snape asked from the kitchen as Hermione came into the house.

"I went to the library after the debating meeting to build my case," she told him. "We have a tournament tomorrow. I did tell you, didn't I?"

"Not about the library, but I'm aware you're going somewhere tomorrow," Snape said, turning to look at her as she entered the room. "I would, however, appreciate it if you could tell me when and where you are going _before _you do so."

"But if I'd come all the way here and then gone all the way back the library would have closed. We really need a phone," she told him.

Snape frowned. "Then we shall get one," he decided. "Voldemort is still looking for the both of us, and we need to be able to find one another in case of emergency, if nothing else."

Hermione looked at him curiously. He was being thoughtful and logical and… very un-Snape-ish. Where was the 'You are under my protection and you will do as I say!' and his patronising attitude?

"You're right," she agreed. "Maybe we can get a couple of mobile phones this weekend? We're still going to London on Sunday, right?"

"I had not been aware that _we _had been planning on doing so, but it will not present a problem," Snape said, almost agreeably.

Hermione frowned at him. "Have you been drugged?" she asked. Snape raised that eyebrow again, and Hermione grinned.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked dangerously.

"Nothing," she said, still grinning. Then, looking around the kitchen, she asked, "are you cooking dinner?"

"Since it appeared that you would be late, I did not think I had any choice," he informed her. "That," he said, indicating the oven, "is Chicken Divan."

"Sounds good," Hermione said, and then sniffed appreciatively. "Smells good, too. I think I might let you do all the cooking from now on."

Snape looked horrified. "You cannot think…" he began, but stopped when Hermione laughed.

"I'm joking." Teasing Snape, Hermione decided, was _fun_. "Well, I'll go and get changed now. I'll be back in a minute." She left, Snape's eyes following her as she did so. _There's something odd about him today_, she thought as she ran lightly up the stairs. _Something's different, and it's not just the uncharacteristic good mood. He was treating me… like an equal_. With a huge grin spreading across her face, Hermione entered her room and began changing for dinner.

The food tasted as good as it had smelled, and Hermione told Snape so as they were eating.

"I… thank you," he said, a little off-balance. His startled reaction made her wonder exactly how many compliments Snape got, and decided that she would compliment him more often, if only for the amusement value.

"So…" he said, after swallowing a mouthful of broccoli, "What are your plans for tomorrow?"

"Well, I'm doing the debate tomorrow afternoon," she said. "Then I'll probably see a movie or something wit Mike afterwards."

Snape raised an eyebrow at her. "I would advise against horror movies," he said blandly, causing Hermione to giggle. He flinched, and she began laughing properly.

"I'm sorry," she said, not feeling at all sorry. Her giggling must have reminded him of whoever it was he had taken out last night. "Um… right, the movie. I probably won't be home until late, because we won't get back to town until at least six. Is that okay?"

Snape frowned. "What time is 'late?'" he asked carefully.

"Well… maybe 10ish? I expect we'll have dinner too." Snape looked extremely unhappy, but whether it was because of her dinner-and-a-movie or just because she'd be home late she wasn't sure.

"Very well, but not long past ten, if you please." Correctly interpreting her angry look he said quickly, "I _know _that you're old enough to decide for yourself, Miss Granger, but there _is _a dark wizard out there who wants to kill you, remember?"

Hermione nodded reluctantly. "You're right. I won't be late, then. Um…"

"Yes?" Snape pressed.

"D'you think… that you could maybe call me Hermione?" she asked. "This 'Miss Granger' bit gets annoying… and, well, nobody calls me by my name anymore."

"That is not an unreasonable request," Snape said slowly. "I will endeavour to do so… Hermione."

Hermione ducked her head, smiling, and speared a piece of broccoli on her fork.

**A/N Again, if you think this is far too clichéd and/or standard, boring, any of the above, **please **tell**** me. I've got a horrible feeling that this is turning into a bit of a nightmare. Umm… oh yes, I'm glad most of you like the pace of the romance, even if some of you want to throttle me for it… sorry, but I **really **can't see them falling in love so suddenly after hating one another for such a long time. Incidentally, this is going to be a really long story… I'm considering breaking it up into two, actually, so that it doesn't end up being hundreds of chapters long. And so that I can write the second half all at once, and then post chapters regularly. To ****HogwartsBaybee, sorry about the lack of description; I've been sort of allergic to it ever since I read Wuthering Heights, but I **do **see what you mean and I'll try to fix it in future, whether in the next chapters or maybe I'll fix it in the rewrite. Sorry about the lack of description-of-Snape's-butt… but then again I'm sure you can imagine it far better than I can describe it, right? And now I'll shut up. **


	25. Chapter Twenty Five

**A/N Thank you to everyone who reviewed! You really did make me write this chapter for today… I was feeling lazy but then I read all the reviewers and you made me so happy that I decided to stop procrastinating and write this whole chapter then and there. **And **I wrote a chapter of** Adhesion**, too. So you can see how much your reviews mean to me! Thank you, all of you. I'm glad you don't think it's clichéd, and I'll try to keep it as unclichéd as possible… this chapter is slightly better in that respect, I think. This is unbeta'd, obviously, because I wrote it today and I thought you'd rather have my mistakes now than the final version of this chapter in mid-August, which is when I get back from Australia, so don't say you've not been warned. I'll repost it and fix anything Gem corrects, and anything you notice if you tell me in a review. Oh, and I've decided that I** will **break this into two stories, as well, so there are maybe four more chapters of this to go before it ends. The sequel will be shorter, but hopefully with more frequent updates, and it'll have lots more romance in it, mainly because I've done the background for their relationship here. **

**Repost: I **knew **there was something else I'd forgotten to fix! Ah well… I've gone back and changed it now, so you get her actual salary, and not my notes to myself to find it… If anyone cares, the minimum wage for anyone between 18 and 21 in the UK was ₤3.80 prior to the October of 2004 and is now ₤4.10. Thanks to Tracey2 and caerrae27 for telling me!**

_Chapter Twenty-Five_

On her way to the school the next day, Hermione passed by the restaurant she and Snape had eaten at the other night, and saw that the 'Help Wanted' sign was still in the window. Impulsively she stopped by the restaurant and walked in.

"Hello?" she called out, seeing that it was empty.

A woman walked out from a door in the back, her face furrowed in confusion. "Oh, sorry," she said, "I thought I'd locked the door. We don't open until five."

"No," Hermione said quickly, "I came in about the job. Do you have an application form or something for me?"

The woman's eyes lit up. "Great! I thought we'd _never _fill it! Everyone's overworked and clamouring for time off, I'm so glad you've come! How much experience have you had waitressing?"

"Um… none, actually," Hermione admitted, blushing. "But I learn really quickly!"

"That's okay," the woman said good-naturedly. "We all have to start somewhere. Speaking of which, we need you weeknights. Times vary from day to day, depending on who wants which shift. The pay's ₤4.00 an hour, and the shifts are for three hours. Is that okay with you?"

"That's fine…" Hermione said.

"Great. We'll fill out the paperwork later. Consider yourself hired!"

"Oh," Hermione said weakly, not expecting that it would be that easy. She still had to convince Snape!

"Can you start next Monday? If you can come by in the afternoon, say around four-ish, to settle the details?"

"Um… yeah, that should be fine," she said, still worrying about Snape.

"See you then!" The woman said brightly. "Oh, by the way, my name's Alice."

"Jane," Hermione said. "Nice to meet you."

"Yes," Alice said briskly. "Well, I'll see you Monday then. Four o'clock. Goodbye!" And with that she went back through the door she'd come from, leaving a slightly shocked Hermione standing there. Slowly, a grin spread across her face. She had the job! She walked out of the restaurant and headed to the school, still grinning.

Even after her stop at the restaurant she arrived at the school early.. Mike wasn't there, but Melissa was.

"Melissa!" Hermione said, grinning at her friend. "I haven't seen you since last week."

"Yeah… I've been sick all this week, so I haven't come to the practices. I won't be debating today, just watching, since I've missed the last two days. Anyway, are you still up for tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow… oh, right, yeah. I'd forgotten, so thanks for reminding me. Same thing as last week?"

"Yeah, only we thought we'd skip the movie. We're all just meeting up at the park at one-ish. Would you like to have lunch first, maybe?"

"Yeah, sure," Hermione replied. "I'll have to ask Alexander, of course, but I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Good," Melissa said. She grinned, and added, "because I think you might have something to tell me."

"Something to…" Hermione began, confused, when she felt a light touch on her shoulder, and turned to see Mike there. "Hey," she said, smiling at him.

"Yes, you definitely have something to tell me," Melissa said, smirking. "Anyway, I'm going… over there. Talk to you guys later." She walked off, grinning.

"Nosy matchmaker," Mike grumbled, but he was smiling too. "All set to go?"

"I think so," Hermione replied slowly, her stomach beginning to jump with nervousness.

"You'll be fine," Mike told her, guessing the reason for her hesitance. "I know it. Come on, let's get on the bus."

True to Mike's prediction, the debate went well. Hermione and Mike didn't see much of Melissa, because she was off talking to other people most of the time, looking at them occasionally to grin and wink at them. For some reason she reminded Hermione of a teenaged female version of Dumbledore, which set her to giggling.

Then they came back and had a very pleasant dinner, happily discussing the debate. Hermione thoroughly enjoyed herself, and realised that was actually happy. She still missed Harry and Ron, of course, but their absence wasn't all-encompassing now. They didn't care as much for her as they did for one another, anyway, which she didn't _really _mind, but it was nice to have all Mike's attention on her. And then, of course, there was the way he kissed her; shy and timid yet with growing confidence as the evening passed and it became obvious that Hermione was enjoying her time with him. The movie they watched was amusing; it didn't exactly have much substance but then, romantic comedies weren't exactly designed for intellectual content. Mike didn't even complain about going to see what most muggle boys would definitely have termed a "chick flick," and when she dropped him off for the night he kissed her in a way that made her go all shivery and her toes curl.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" he asked, as he drew back.

"Mm," Hermione said, her lips still tingling pleasantly. "Do you want me to teach you to ride this thing after we all meet up in the park tomorrow?"

"That'd be great. Thanks, again."

"No problem." Hermione leaned up to kiss him once more, and grinned into the kiss, which sort of spoiled it, but it didn't really matter.

"Thank you," she said. "I really enjoyed this."

"I'm glad. Me too. See you tomorrow, then?"

"Yeah." With one last kiss she put her helmet back on and drove back home.

Hermione's good mood evaporated as she walked in the door and remembered that she had to tell Snape about her new job. _This could go very badly_, she thought morosely, and then, _no, this _will _go very badly. But I'm not backing down._

The light was on in the living room, so she went in there to see Snape lounging sideways in an armchair, feet over the arm, reading a book. He looked up as she came in and nodded to her.

"Pleasant evening, Hermione?" he enquired. She felt a little jolt at his use of her first name. He had remembered!

"Very, thank you. We won the debate," she said as she crossed the room and sat on the edge of the sofa, crossing her hands in her lap.

"How nice for you," he said, picking up the book again.

"Um…" she said, not quite sure what to begin. Snape looked at her over his book, sighed, and returned it to the coffee table.

"What is it you wish to say?" he asked, with all outward appearance of calm and composure.

"Um… I'm meeting my friends tomorrow," she said, suddenly losing her nerve. "At about twelve. And then Mike was going to come back here so I could teach him to ride the bike, if that's okay."

Snape sighed. "I suppose he must?" he asked wearily.

"Well, I want him to," Hermione said defensively. She felt like she was asking her father for permission, and it was irritating her. "Anyway, I've already invited him, so I can't really cancel now. I was more telling you than asking you."

"How very _considerate _of you," Snape spat.

"Sorry," she said, not feeling particularly sorry at all. "Anyway, we're still going to London on Sunday, right? We're staying the night, too?"

"Yes," he said, "unless you've made other plans for then, too?"

"No," she said, "only I'm meeting up with… um, Melissa in town on Monday afternoon. At half three."

"Becoming quite the social butterfly, aren't you?" he asked, but not nastily.

"Yeah, I guess," Hermione said, smiling weakly and feeling guilty. She _really _didn't want to tell him about the job, though. Maybe he wouldn't need to find out. "Anyway, if that's all okay with you I might go to bed now."

"I shall do the same, then. After you, Hermione," he said, indicating that she precede him through the door. He followed her up the stairs, and when she bid him goodnight from her doorway, he turned and said goodnight to her, too. He looked at her for just a moment before going into his room, and the look made her stomach flutter in the way it had been fluttering earlier, when Mike had kissed her goodnight. _Residual nerves_, she told herself as she got ready for bed. _That's all it was. _She went to sleep, thinking of dark eyes.


	26. Chapter Twenty Six

A/N This is a huge note, just to warn everyone, so if you don't want to read my rambling feel free to skip to the story. Guess what? Mike's turned out to be Perfect Boy, aka Gary Stew. I'd always planned on giving him a couple of annoying flaws, but he was never meant to be a major character… only now he has somehow become one, which is a right pain. So I thought I might as well make the most of it by giving him a few fatal flaws (I seriously considered Mad-Axe-Murderer-Mike, but something Whystical once said changed my mind…), which means I'm open to suggestions. I do know how I'm going to dispose of him (and since you all know what the pairing is I don't feel too guilty in giving that away), but a couple of annoying habits will make this a little more entertaining, so I'd love it if you would suggest some!

Second thing I have to address is HBP. No spoilers here, but I will say that the book, while I liked it, has seriously screwed up my little story. So we're now entering the realms of AU (not that, in all honesty, this wasn't AU to begin with…). And don't worry, I haven't forgotten the original challenge terms. There are still a few of them left, and one will occur in this chapter, I think. Almost finally, I want to say thank you to everyone who reviewed, and to everyone who wished me a happy holiday (and those of you who told me my holiday was over so start writing… yep, you're the reason this actually got finished when it did grin). I would send you all Caramello Koalas, but I don't think that would work very well.

**And, the very last thing, I'm about to start my last year of school this year, which means I'm a senior in the IB, which means I'm actually into negative free time. I promise I'll write as often as I can, but I need a 42 by the end of the year to get into the university I'm aiming for (pray for me if you know what that means), so updates won't be frequent. I **will **finish this, though (because it's too much fun not to, and because I'm fairly sure a few of you will kill me if I don't), but the sequel will be longer in coming simply because I plan on writing the whole thing before I post it. On the down side there's a longer initial wait, on the up side you're guaranteed frequent updates when it finally comes. Still, you can expect a few more chapters of this story. And now, at last, I'll shut up. Thanks to Gem for betaing this! I hope you enjoy it.**

Chapter Twenty-Six 

Hermione awoke suddenly in the middle of the night, feeling none of the sleepy disorientation that usually characterised her late night awakenings. There was a sound downstairs. The creak of a floorboard, maybe, or perhaps even a door swinging open. Gripping her wand, she stepped carefully out of bed and made her way stealthily down the stairs. A light in the kitchen was on, and to her relief it was Snape in there, pouring steaming water from the kettle. He must have made the noise that woke her. Watching him from the doorway, she saw him replace the kettle on its stand, draw another teacup from the cupboard, place a tea bag carefully in it, and then pour water into the second cup. A moment later both teabags were in the bin and he had poured milk into the cups, still without even glancing her way. Finally he took one in each hand and turned to her, offering her a cup.

"Thank you," she said, watching him carefully to see what he would do. There was a strange, almost unreal quality in the air tonight.

Snape nodded and moved past her into the hallway. He turned to go into the living room and paused at the doorway, facing her and arching an eyebrow to see if she was coming. Hermione nodded, clutching her tea, and followed. Snape sat on the sofa and pointed his wand at the cold fireplace. It immediately came to life, lighting up the dark room. He was sitting normally, not sideways as Hermione had become accustomed to seeing him in his armchair, and for some reason the new seat and position put her off balance. _Or_, she amended silently, _more off balance than I already am._ She knew she had to tell him about her job, and the sooner she did so the better. When she told him he would be much angrier if he found out that she had been keeping the information from him.

"What is it you want to tell me, Hermione?" he asked after there had been silence for a while. He looked different, strange and almost sinister in the darkness with only the flickering light of the fire illuminating his face.

"Remember we were talking about me getting a job?" she asked hesitantly, moving to sit on the same couch but not sitting directly next to him.

"Yes," he said abruptly, his eyes narrowing. "I thought we had decided you weren't going to do it."

"No," she said. "We didn't decide anything. But I want to do it, and it's really not so different from me doing debating three nights a week. It's only for three hours a night, and only on weekdays."

Snape's eyes narrowed further. "You seem to know all the details," he said coolly.

"I… asked at a restaurant today," Hermione said, flushing a little.

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. It was too difficult to see his expression in the dark. Hermione hoped rather feebly that he wasn't trying to contain rage.

"Miss Granger," he began softly. Hermione restrained the urge to gulp. This was a bad sign. For him to revert to formal address in _that _tone of voice did not bode well. "Why is it that you seem to be incapable of doing _anything _without consulting me first? You go on outings, you see movies, you join debate teams, you invite muggles over, and now you _accept a job?_ You've replaced your old books with new ones, your old studies with this debating, and your old friends with new friends. You _constantly _flout the guidelines we have set up for our own safety, and now you set yourself up with a job that requires a steady commitment, a commitment that you might not be able to keep if we have to suddenly move again to escape Voldemort! How can I convince you to discuss these decisions of yours with the only person who knows of and can understand your predicament? I am the person affected most by your rash decisions, yet you choose to withhold information from me that could _affect our very lives!_"

By the end of his speech Hermione had tears flowing freely down her face. "I hate the way you think you can throw my flaws into my face and get away with it," she whispered. "I hate how you can say all of that to me… and that I know you're right." The admission took a lot out of her, and she said it in barely a whisper, not looking at him.

"You're just a child," he said softly, almost compassionately, with wonder in his voice.

"I can admit to weakness without being a child," she returned quietly, still not quite able to still the flow of tears. "I _am _sorry. I… I'm hoping that if my life is full enough, if I have something to do with my time, all the time, I'll be able to not think about what's happening out there. I miss them," she admitted with brutal honesty, "my parents and my friends. I'm scared. We don't even get the Daily Prophet. Nobody in the wizarding world has a clue who we are, not even my _parents _remember me anymore… nobody could tell us if… if something went wrong. Anything could have happened, and we wouldn't know. Doesn't it scare you?"

"I do not like not knowing," he admitted, "but neither do I like being kept in the dark. You must realise that just because nobody remembers our names and our identities does not mean that we are in no danger. Voldemort has safeguards against the Fidelius, has done ever since Lily and James Potter. He obviously cannot connect us with Severus Snape and Hermione Granger, but he is intelligent enough to realise that anybody hiding in the Fidelius is probably hiding from him with reason enough to hide themselves from the world to do so. It will not matter whether he knows who we are when he finds us for he will nevertheless recognise us as enemies and kill us anyway. Not knowing what is happening in the world is preferable to finding out and being killed for our pains. I promised Dumbledore that I would protect you with my life, and I will do so."

"I…" Hermione stopped. She couldn't think of anything to say. "Thank you," she said at last.

Snape shifted uncomfortably. "Think nothing of it. I suggest that you go to bed now. You have friends to meet tomorrow, do you not?"

"Yes," Hermione replied. She was still reeling a little with the knowledge that he would give his own life for hers if it came to it. Impulsively she leant over and hugged him. He stiffened under her, but after a moment his arms came around her, awkwardly returning her hug. "Thank you," she whispered again, in his ear, before pressing her lips gently to his cheek. She disentangled herself from him and made her way to her room, leaving him sitting on the couch in the living room, motionless.

Hermione met up with Melissa for lunch the next day, taking the bike and dropping Snape off at the library on the way. She chatted with her over the meal, but her heart wasn't really in the conversation. Snape's words of the previous evening came back to her; if they did have to leave abruptly she would be leaving friends behind, friends who would worry about her.

"What's wrong, Jane?" Melissa asked, the sudden question breaking Hermione out of her reverie.

"Nothing's wrong," she said automatically, trying on a smile.

"Right. You've been quiet and sad all lunch, and now you're telling me you're fine."

Hermione briefly considered telling Melissa that she was on the run from a magical megalomaniac murderer, but decided that it probably wasn't the best option. Instead she said, "My uncle's considering accepting a job. In… um, Durham. It's not definite, or even very likely, but there's a chance we'll move again."

"But you've only been here what, two weeks? Three weeks? You can't move again so soon!"

"I don't know that I will move," Hermione said, "but I might. You see, at the school my uncle used to teach at there's… a professor who's sick. They're using substitute right now because they think he'll be back at work soon but if, um, if it gets worse then we'll have to leave. Pretty much immediately, too. I don't know if I'll even have time to say goodbye."

"Right." Melissa looked a little sceptical, and Hermione felt guilty all over again. This wasn't Harry and Ron who would believe any story she pulled out of thin air. Still, it wasn't like anyone normal would make a crazy story like that up, so maybe Melissa believed her…

"I don't know that it will happen," Hermione said truthfully. "But it might. I wanted you to know. Just… just in case."

"Have you told Mike?"

"Uh no, not yet," she replied, blushing. Would this be the time Melissa started the questions?

"So, about you and Mike…" the look in Melissa's eyes was predatory. Hermione's blush deepened. It would be a _long _afternoon.


	27. Chapter Twenty Seven

**A/N Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! And thanks also for all the suggestions for Mike's flaws. I used some of them in this chapter, and plan on using the rest in chapters to come. I'm getting slightly better at not taking forever, although I realise that almost a month is a long time... I promise I'll try harder. But be nice... it's my birthday! And I know I hate reading it when authors answer their reviewers individually, but I really have to for this chapter… because there are so many things I really want to address. I've kept it to a minimum, just mainly answering questions… but yes. Excuse this next paragraph, please. Thanks to Gem for betaing!**

**To answer reviewers' questions and comments: Sweetsyphn - thanks for all the suggestions you gave me, you can't imagine how pleased I was to see them! As you can see, I've used a couple of them in this chapter, and one of them has become almost a theme. Except, sadly, psychotic Mike… you're right, it really would be fun… especially _because_ we'd end up with a smug Severus. But oh well… HogwartsBaybee – yep, the next hug is definitely dedicated to you. I couldn't fit it into this chapter, sadly, but keep an eye out for it in the next one! Slim Shady – a 42 is the highest possible score on the International Baccalaureate (IB); you can have 3 bonus points from two essays and a presentation depending on how good they are for a maximum of 45 points. It's going to be ridiculously hard… thank you for wishing me well! Adele Rose – You're right, of course, about the last names. I'll go back and give them one when I do my final edit… any suggestions for a surname? Thanks for pointing that out! Madelynn Rae – yuck! I'm definitely using one or both next chapter! Snape's Opera Rose – Thank you for wishing me luck! Sophomore year's the best… it all goes downhill from there. Enjoy it while you still can! Not to be pessimistic…**

_Chapter Twenty-Seven_

After Melissa had dragged all the details of Hermione's relationship with Mike from her they left the restaurant to meet Melissa's friends in the park. Well, Hermione's exit was closer to full-out fleeing of the restaurant, hoping that she could leave the gossip behind. Unfortunately, Hermione's wishes didn't seem to have much impact on reality. They arrived in the park to find everyone else already there, lounging on the grass and complaining about some test or other in English that they didn't want to have to take. Mike grinned up at Hermione when he saw her and pulled her down to sit between his legs, leaning against his chest. Hermione frowned. W_hy not just tattoo my forehead with 'property of Mike?'_ she thought irritably. _This means _more _gossip_. He kissed her earlobe and she jumped at the unexpected touch.

"Ooh what's this?" Danielle asked suddenly, looking at Hermione and Mike with a gleam in her eyes very similar to Melissa's before she had begun to ask questions.

Hermione groaned, and Mike tightened his arms around her in a comforting hug, whispering "Sorry about all this," in her ear.

At the same time, Melissa chirped up, "Jane and Mike are together."

"Gee, thanks Melissa," Hermione said in an undertone as the rest of the group turned as one to look at her.

"Really?" Jacob asked interestedly. "Good call, mate." Melissa swatted him with the back of her hand, rather harder than she had probably intended because he winced and began rubbing his arm where she had hit him. Mike laughed, not the chuckle Hermione had become accustomed to when they were in private but a strange sort of high-pitched yelp. She turned in consternation, wondering if he had choked on his own tongue or something, but he just grinned at her and kissed her. Hermione endured it with bad grace; she was fine with a little bit of possessiveness (it was really sort of cute, in moderation), but these sudden public displays of affection after absolutely nothing were a little much.

_What's gotten into me?_ she wondered. _Usually this would thrill me… and I _like _Mike, I really do. _For some reason, though, she couldn't help but think of Snape and their conversation of the night before. She felt almost as though she was betraying him, in some odd way, and everything today seemed to be grating on her nerves.

"So how long have you two been together?" Hannah asked, apparently eager for gossip.

"Since Tuesday," Mike replied, twining his arms around Hermione's waist again.

"And how far have…" Jacob began, but Melissa smacked him again, considerably harder this time.

"Don't even think of finishing that sentence," she warned, flashing a brief apologetic smile at Hermione.

"Not if _you_ want to get any," James muttered, but Melissa heard him and smacked him too. Hermione laughed, but she was still blushing from Jacob's aborted question. _Teenaged boys, _she thought with a small sigh.

In her ear, Mike whispered, "D'you want to go? We don't need to put up with this if you don't want to."

"Mm," she replied, and then said to the group, "We might take off, actually. I promised Mike I'd give him motorbike lessons this afternoon, and I think my uncle has another date tonight." Did he? She couldn't remember. Still, it was as good an excuse as any.

She got to her feet, and Mike stood too. "Bye guys," he said, and they left to catcalls from the others. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Sorry to put you through that, baby," Mike said. Hermione stiffened.

"Don't please," she said. For some reason, that endearment always irked her; it suggested dependence and subservience.

"Why not?" he asked mildly.

"I don't know. I just hate it. It's on too many American movies; the guy always seems to be talking down to the girl."

Mike grinned at her, capturing her hand. "Would you prefer a different name?" he asked. "Say… I don't know, huggsie-wuggsie?" There was definitely a gleam of laughter in his eyes.

Hermione snatched her hand away, not quite able to suppress her own smile. "Don't you dare!"

"Oh, but I will," he replied irrepressibly. Hermione had the feeling he was serious, too. _Oh dear._

She drove the bike back to the house, showing Mike what on the bike did what as she went. He paid avid attention while she explained everything over the noise of the motor, but spent the rest of the trip kissing her neck. It was quite nice, she thought, until he began sucking on her earlobe. Even that she could deal with, just, but when he took one of her curls into his mouth she jerked her head away. Boys were odd creatures.

"What was wrong with that?" he asked when they finally got off the bike.

"It's icky," Hermione informed him calmly.

"Icky?" he repeated, laughing lightly. It was a much nicer laugh than the odd one when they were with the group earlier, and Hermione relaxed once again.

"Yep, icky," she told him, unfastening his helmet and hanging it from the handlebars next to her own. She leaned in and hugged him, then withdrew and said, "Come on, let's get a drink and then I'll show you how to ride this thing."

Mike waggled his eyebrows at her, and Hermione rolled her eyes. "You watch it," she said, half-jokingly, "or I'll pull a Melissa and smack you."

"No!" he replied in mock fear, "Please! Anything but that!"

"Good. What would you like, then? We have the same as last time."

"Whatever you're having, huggsie-wuggsie."

Hermione glared at him. There was a spluttering noise from behind them, and Hermione turned, mortified, to see Snape standing there.

"I… ah…" Hermione began, blushing furiously and not quite sure what to say. _Damn Mike_, she thought irritably. _Snape is _never _going to let me hear the end of this_.

"I apologise," Snape began eloquently, "I had not seen that you were in the kitchen. Forgive me for intruding." Hermione's eyebrows shot up in amazement. Was he_ really _going to let that one slide? _Of course not_, she thought morosely, hearing a muffled "huggsie-wuggsie" from the doorway as Snape disappeared through it.

"That was awkward," Mike commented once Snape had left. "I'm sorry." He was blushing a little too, Hermione noted. _Good._

"S'okay. I'm sure he'll stop teasing me about it daily by the time I move out."

He winced. "Sorry," he repeated. Hermione shrugged.

"Oh well. Let's take our drinks outside and I'll show you how to ride the bike."

Mike left a few hours later, telling her he would walk home and thanking her for the lesson. She walked him to the garden gate, where he kissed her goodbye and cheerfully began the walk back into town, whistling loudly. Hermione went into the house, sighing. She met Snape in the kitchen, taking a tray from the oven with oven mitts on his hands. Hermione goggled at him. The sight was so incongruous with the man. Of course, he couldn't very well take it out of the oven any other way but seeing Snape so… well, domestically occupied… was just plain odd.

"Your muggle boyfriend has gone then, has he?" Snape asked her, somehow sensing her presence even though his back was turned to her.

"He's not…" Hermione began, before realising guiltily that he actually _was _her 'muggle boyfriend.' "Yes," she said hastily, "he's gone."

"Good. Cooking this without magic was quite tiresome." He placed a warming charm on the tray and gestured for her to go into the dining room.

"Thank you for cooking," Hermione said gratefully. "But, um, isn't the food still in the kitchen?"

"That's the main course. There are prawns and avocado to start with."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "How…" she asked?

Snape pulled her chair out for her and waited for her to sit before replying smugly, "The cookbook."

"Oh."

"Yes. So, huggsie-wuggsie, how was your day?"

Hermione groaned. "I knew you'd bring that up."

"It's nauseating."

"It is, isn't it?" Hermione said miserably. "He thinks it's funny. I don't suppose I could convince you to forget about it?"

"No," he said, smirking.

"You're going to call me that from now on, aren't you?"

"Yes." His smirk widened.

"There's _nothing _I can do to convince you?" she asked, a little desperately. Snape looked at her with wide eyes for a minute, before subsiding and replacing the startled look with his customary smug smile.

"Oh, I imagine I'll come up with… something. Huggsie-wuggsie."

Hermione glared at him. "I'll make you use the ticket machine to buy our tickets tomorrow."

Snape laughed.

"I'll take you to a football game! All muggles are supposed to know about football!"

"You forget; I enjoy Quidditch. I'm sure I'll like this 'football.' Keep trying, though; your threats amuse me."

Hermione glared again. "I'll take you to _McDonalds_."

Snape shuddered. "You would not!"

"Oh, I would."

Snape made his escape, claiming that it was time for the main meal. Hermione laughed. Maybe there was hope yet.


	28. Chapter Twenty Eight

**A/N I realise that this is both incredibly short and incredibly late. But it's done. Unbeta'd because 1) my beta doesn't have a computer right now and 2) I wanted to upload it immediately to show you I'm actually working. I'm really sorry about the delay… real life combined with writer's block stopped this story after two pages, but Adele Rose motivated me to continue, and it just clicked. I hope you agree that it works. If you keep your fingers crossed and review nicely it might just motivate me to put out a chapter of** Adhesion **for tomorrow (that one was further along than this when the dreaded block struck, so perhaps it'll be longer than this when it's finished too!). I apologise for the delay, and since I'm spending the second half of this week on the beach hopefully I can pen something then and type it up when I return! I do know where I'm going with this, so it **won't **be unfinished forever, I can promise you that much. Should be finished soon, too... only a few chapters left! Again, huge apologies for the delay. To** HogwartsBaybee, **keep an eye out for the hug dedicated to you! It's not a very good hug, but Snape seems to get better with practise, and Hermione likes helping people improve. Thanks again to everyone with nicknames; they'll make an appearance in the next chapter, which ought to be packed with Interesting Events and Plot Movement since I have an outline for this and _finally _I managed to figure out the transition. Oh, and a second thank you to** Adele Rose **who firstly inspired me to finish but who also reminded me of the need for surnames and provided them. Hope you all like the chapter!**

_Chapter Twenty-Eight_

They went to London on Sunday, staying once more in the same hotel room. The room they were in was identical to the last one they had stayed in, down to the broken window, and Snape once again chose the bed nearest the exit.

"Why did you take that one again?" Hermione asked idly as she put her own suitcase down at the end of the second bed. Snape frowned at her.

"It's closest to the door," he explained.

"I can see that. But why do you always take the bed closest to the door?"

"Because it puts me between you and anybody who comes in the door."

"Oh," Hermione said, suddenly understanding the implications. He was evidently taking his job of protecting her much more seriously than she had ever imagined. The realisation raised sudden myriad of feelings in her, among them respect, gratitude, and awe.

"If you've finished asking questions, shall we go and buy tickets to another play now?"

"I'm never finished asking questions. And sure. I didn't know you wanted to see another play. There are other things to do in London, you know. I could even make the sacrifice of going to a football game if you really wanted. Or rugby, or whatever. Or we could go to a concert. Ooh or there's the ballet. In fact, we could even…"

"Hermione."

She broke off her rambling and looked at him. "Yes?" she asked.

"I was beginning to wonder if you would ever stop," he said, straight-faced. "If not a play, what do you recommend?"

"I'm not sure." She sat on the end of her bed, cross-legged. "Hmm. What do you do in your free time in the wizarding world?"

"I work."

"All the time?"

"Yes, Miss Granger." Hermione the hint.

"Okay, well…" Suddenly, she grinned. "I have an idea."

"You expect me to hold _that _with three fingers?" Snape asked dubiously.

"Yes."

"And throw it?"

"Yes. Well, roll it."

"And hit down ten little pieces of wood?"

"Yes."

"And what, exactly, is the purpose of this activity?"

"It's _fun_, Alexander. It's a game. Well, it's probably technically a sport, but let's just stick with 'game.' Now, try it."

"I'm not sure…" he said dubiously. Hermione could almost see his brain working furiously to find a way to get out of the loud, crowded, busy room.

"Here, I'll go first. Like _this_." She rolled the ball fairly gracefully, hitting down three of the pins. "Now it's going to come up that machine in the middle in a moment, and I do it again. Once that turn's over, you get two rolls of the ball. We keep going until we run out of squares on the screen up there, see?" The bowling ball had come back up so Hermione took it and bowled again, knocking down the rest of the pins. "It's called a spare if you knock them all down in two goes. It's a strike if you knock down all ten the first time. Now it's your turn."

Snape looked at her dubiously once more before sighing, picking up the ball, and moving to the lane. He rolled it in an imitation of her earlier movements, sending the ball straight down the alley. Hermione couldn't help but laugh.

"I should've asked for bumpers," she said, still grinning. "Come on, have another go."

They finally left the bowling alley, still bickering about whether or not Hermione had cheated (She hadn't stepped over the line. Really. The problem was with Snape's eyesight and the fact that he always had to win). They ate dinner in the same restaurant they had eaten in the previous week at Snape's insistence, and then retired to the hotel room for an early night. Hermione seriously considered taking Snape to a nightclub, but decided that, on balance, he probably wasn't quite ready for that. She wasn't sure if _she _was quite ready for that. Instead she introduced him to cards, and they spent a relatively peaceful evening playing card games. Eventually Hermione caught herself yawning and realised it was eleven o'clock.

"I need to go to bed, I think," she said. "Otherwise I'll be falling asleep tomorrow and we'll never get anything done. We have quite a few things planned, don't we?"

"We need to buy these mobile phones you suggested, as well as some potions ingredients. I thought you might like to have a look in Flourish and Blotts, too."

"We can go to Diagon Alley?" Hermione asked, suddenly cheered.

"I don't see why not. Just remember that you're Jane Green and I am Alexander Pane. Muggles don't understand why they can't understand your name, but there's a fairly high chance that wizards will, if you make a mistake. We can't afford to raise suspicions."

"Of course." Hermione readied herself for bed, and was asleep shortly afterwards. Snape stayed up a little longer, absent-mindedly watching Hermione sleep, lost in his thoughts.

Hermione found Diagon Alley to be quite disconcerting, and saddening. People who would ordinarily recognise her just looked straight past her. The worst part, for Hermione, was that Mrs Weasley was there shopping that day. Seeing one of the adults she knew best in the magical world look straight past her without even blinking made her heart break as she remembered everything she had been through. Snape took her hand for a moment and squeezed it before letting go to open the door to the Apocathary for her. She smiled and entered, putting the incident out of her mind and browsing through the ingredients as Snape made his purchases. They went to Flourish and Blotts, and then had lunch in a muggle pub before buying mobile phones and catching the train back.

It was half past three by the time the train pulled into the station, and Hermione realised with a sudden jolt that she had agreed to be at the restaurant at four o'clock. _Good thing I'm not late_, she thought, _wouldn't that be a great way to start off the job?_ She wasn't planning on keeping it any longer than she had to, after Snape's little speech (and really, if he cared so much about it then it wouldn't hurt to humour him), but arriving there late would still be bad. So, taking a deep breath, she broached the subject.

"You remember my job at the restaurant?" Hermione asked tentatively as they stepped down from the train. Snape's body language, relaxed for most of the day, suddenly tensed.

"Yes?" he asked evenly, which quite impressed Hermione since the last time they had spoken about this she had been crying and he angrier than she had ever seen him.

"I accepted the job, so I can't back out now," she said resolutely, "but I'll tell them that I'll only fill in until they can find a permanent replacement. I know how you feel about it, so I'll make it clear. But today's my first day, and showing up late wouldn't be a good move."

Snape looked gratified. "I'm… pleased that you considered my opinion," he said after a moment's pause. A smile spread across Hermione's face.

"And I'm pleased you didn't demand it of me. Thank you, Severus. Alexander, that is." She blushed, and Snape actually smiled.

"You had better go to this job then. What time will it finish?"

"My shift will probably end around eight, I think."

"I'll pick you up on the bike at that time, then. I think I should be fine to ride it alone now."

"You've improved a lot."

"Thank you." Only the quirk of his eyebrow betrayed the irony of his words.

"Of course. And Severus?"

"Alexander in public," he reminded gently.

"Right. Of course. Thank you." Before he could object she hugged him quickly, and then set off at a fast walk for the restaurant, pondering his words. She'd slipped up twice in the space of a few seconds, and he had barely rebuked her. Had he obliquely given her permission to use his first name in private? Deciding that the matter needed further experimentation (and she was never one to back away from a challenge), Hermione looked back over her shoulder at him. He was standing in the crowd, watching her without moving, clearly surprised at the hug. _I'll have to do that more often_, she resolved. _It's a shame that he doesn't know how to recognise affection_. If she had other, almost subconscious motives… well, they were best left to ponder another day. Hermione had a job to go to.


	29. Chapter Twenty Nine

**A/N I can't believe this took me so long. You reviewers are the ones who kept me trying to overcome my block, and it's all down to Adele Rose who finally got me over it, and helped me enormously with this story. She's the reason I've finally decided where I'm going with this, and she and Gem have helped me loads by throwing around ideas and possibilities. Still, there's good news and bad news. The good news is I won't give up on this. I've even got the next chapter mostly written. And this story is going to be longer than originally anticipated. The bad news? There's no room left for a sequel with the new and improved longer story. Also, slow updates. Not this slow again! But slow, because I'm going to be spending the next 2 months travelling, and the five after that working in a place where I may or may not have frequent internet access, and I probably won't have much free time. And then I'm off to uni, so settling in there will give me little time to write, too. But I won't give up, and I will try, really, really hard to write more and quickly. We'll see. Thanks to all of you for not giving up on me, and I hope you like this chapter. **

Hermione arrived at the restaurant promptly at four o'clock, and slipped through the once-again-open front door. She followed the echoing clattering sounds through another door in the back, to find a kitchen covered mostly in pots and pans, with a man not much older than herself frantically scrambling along the floor trying to pick them up and restore order to the chaos that was the kitchen. Hermione pitched in without a word, and it was a few moments before he noticed her helping.

"Oh," he said, "Thank you! They all fell."

"I can see," Hermione replied, not quite suppressing a smile. "Where is everyone? I'm Herm– um, new here, and I'm due to start working today. That is, I was going to be a waitress, and Alice said four but she's not here."

"Oh, you must be Jane. Alice said something, but with all this I'd forgotten. I'm Daniel. Welcome." He stuck out his hand, which Hermione took, grinning at him over the pot-scattered floor and mentally kicking herself for forgetting to tell him her middle name. Perhaps Snape was right – she really wasn't taking this whole thing as seriously as she should be, and she really ought to be more alert. Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, Hermione realised that Snape had probably had more than a few valid points when he had argued against her taking the job. Shaking off her thoughts, at least for the moment, she asked,

"So, you work here?"

"Yes. Dad owns this place. I'm taking culinary courses, to be a chef, so it's all good practice."

"You're the chef?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"Assistant chef. Greg is the official one, and he's the one with real talent. I just do as I'm told." He flashed her another smile as he said this, before placing the last pot on the counter top and sighing in satisfaction. "I really don't know _how _I managed to knock all of them down. You wouldn't think carrying a pile from one side of the kitchen to the other would be too hard, but apparently not. Anyway, the others should be here soon. I'll show you around – not that there's much to see – and then Alice'll tell you what you need to know.

Everything was a bit of a blur after that. Alice and Greg both arrived within a few minutes of one another, and the other two waitresses shortly afterwards. They were severely short-staffed, with only the two other waitresses, so everyone was ecstatic to see her. And when Daniel began to tell them, to their delight, about how "Jane" had arrived and immediately helped him clear the mess he'd made, Hermione began to feel even worse about having to tell them that she'd have to leave as soon as they found a replacement for her. Her guilt grew as the evening passed and the staff all tried to be friendly and help her fit in, so she spent a great deal of time worrying about how to tell Alice what was wrong, and consequently lost her first-day-on-the-job nerves to having-to-tell-the-boss-she-was-quitting nerves. In the last half hour of her shift, all thoughts of resigning left her mind as she approached a table of four darkly attired gentlemen. Worry fled to be replaced by horror. At the table sat Lucius Malfoy.

Hermione could feel the blood drain from her face. The men at the table hadn't noticed her, and seemed deep in hushed conversation. She knew that she would have to get hold of herself, and not attract undue attention, but she took a moment to examine them discreetly. Lucius Malfoy was dressed in muggle clothing, with none of his usual unflappability. In fact, he looked rather uncomfortable. His hair was not quite its immaculate self, he had bags under his eyes, and Hermione was certain that he was fidgeting with the head of his cane. As to his companions, Hermione recognised none of them. They were all wearing muggle business suits, which was unsurprising considering the establishment, but nevertheless it was a shock to see Malfoy in anything other than wizard apparel. It was bizarre, and left Hermione to wonder exactly what was going on. Something secret, obviously. Deciding that she had dithered for too long, and her curiosity aroused, Hermione approached the table with menus, swallowing nervously as she made her way to the group.

She needn't have worried, because none of them even spared her a second glance. They accepted the menus with grunts of thanks, ordered a bottle of wine, and then went back to their conversation. Hermione hovered, hoping to hear some of their discussion and find out what, exactly, brought Lucius Malfoy to a muggle restaurant with a group of muggle businessmen. From the few words she could catch, they seemed to be talking about money. She overheard one of Malfoy's companions, an immaculately dressed man with grey hair and a bit of a wheeze, say something about "foreign investments." She wasn't particularly subtle in her eavesdropping, though, because one of the men, a large fellow with a short-cropped beard, frowned at her and said, "We haven't decided what to order yet." Hermione blushed, nodded, and escaped to the kitchen.

Malfoy hadn't looked at her once, but then, why would he? A muggle waitress was probably lower than a house elf in his estimation. A house elf might at least deserve a kick, but a muggle waitress would not even merit a glance. Except, of course, for muggle-baiting. Hermione's queasiness grew as she remembered the events following the Quidditch World Cup a few years ago, and the fact that Death Eaters had progressed far beyond mere muggle-baiting since Voldemort's return. If Malfoy had any inkling who his waitress was, well, Hermione had a good imagination, but she certainly did not want to picture what he and his fellow Death Eaters could do to her.

Hermione had never longed to see Severus as she did at that moment. The thought of waiting on the men both frightened and intrigued her. Eventually, however, common sense won out and she went to Alice to say she was feeling unwell. Feigning illness wasn't necessary; Hermione could feel herself beginning to tremble all over.

"You're white as a sheet, dear," Alice said with a concerned look, "you've about finished your shift. You should go home now and get some rest."

Hermione did not even ask about her next scheduled shift, or mention resigning. Instead, with relief, she left through the kitchen and out the side door. Thankfully, Snape was already waiting outside the restaurant. He took one look at her face and immediately began questioning her but, after receiving only a look and a shake of her head in reply, he put a helmet on her and pulled Hermione to sit behind him on the motorcycle before driving back to the house.

Once home, with Hermione still wordless, they moved to the sitting room. With his hands on her shoulders Snape marched her to the couch and then they both sat, he half-embracing her and rubbing her arms with his hands, trying awkwardly to warm and comfort her at the same time.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, "but you would've blown up if I had told you back there, and that wouldn't've been a good idea in the muggle public."

Snape frowned and asked carefully, "What happened?"

"I saw Lucius Malfoy." Snape straightened up next to her and gave her a sharp look.

"You saw _who_?"

"Malfoy. In the restaurant. Dressed as a muggle."

Snape sat completely still for a moment, as if he were too shocked to move, but suddenly he was on his feet and striding towards the staircase.

"Get packing," he snapped, "we leave in thirty minutes."

"Wait, what?" Hermione asked, confused. Snape paused in the doorway and turned to look directly at her.

"We have to leave," he said, calmly and wholly serious. "Now. The sooner the better."

"Can't we talk about this a minute?" Hermione asked, in growing alarm. She moved over him and took his hand, gently tugging him towards the couches. "Please? I don't think it's necessary to just uproot ourselves. Immediately, anyway." Her voice, she noticed absently, was quite calm. She still felt like a quivering mess from the unexpected and unpleasant experience of seeing Lucius Malfoy in such proximity to herself, but a part of her recognised the potential profit of having an unsuspecting Lucius Malfoy nearby, as long as he came back and remained unsuspecting.

"That man is dangerous," Snape was saying, and Hermione stopped her ruminations in favour of listening to his objections and preparing a counter-argument. "Even if he isn't specifically after us, it could be bad. If he so much as suspects that there are wizards living under the Fidelius…"

"He'll assume that we're Voldemort's enemies and try to kill us, I know. But if we suddenly uproot ourselves and word gets back to him that two quite antisocial people who appeared out of nowhere barely a month ago suddenly disappear with no warning whatsoever? That's probably even more dangerous. He won't suspect his common, _muggle _waitress to be a witch under Fidelius."

"But the risks…" Snape protested, and Hermione quelled him with a look. She smiled to herself a little; at least now he was no longer jumping up and ready to pack his suitcase. And, she realised, neither was he ordering her to do as he had instructed her. Their relationship certainly had improved since they had first arrived. Was it possible he was coming to value her opinion? Realising that she was still grasping his hand she stroked her thumb over his own and tried another tactic.

"I'll give notice at the restaurant, and only stay until they find a replacement, like originally planned. This way we can find out a little more about _why_ Malfoy is sitting in a muggle restaurant with apparently muggle associates and it won't look suspicious because I've suddenly disappeared into thin air."

"You're not a spy," he said sharply. "You don't realise…"

"Being their waitress won't hurt," Hermione interrupted, trying to inject assurance into her voice. "I'll wait on their table, eavesdrop a bit, nothing more. Don't worry, I won't do anything stupid."

"Intentionally, anyway," Snape replied, with a ghost of a smile hovering on his lips. "Gryffindors always seem to manage." Hermione withdrew her hand from his to slap his arm playfully.

Regardless of the gesture, she looked into his eyes as she said, "Believe me, I won't carelessly throw my life away. And I would never play with yours."

"You're only eighteen…" he protested half-heartedly, and Hermione knew that she had won.

"My age makes no difference, and you know it. There are forty-year-olds you wouldn't let near your cauldrons, but you let me."

"The only reason I let you is because I'm very good at shielding myself from exploding cauldrons," he told her. Hermione laughed.

"I've never!"

"Yet," he retorted, but the tiny smile was back. In a gesture that surprised Hermione he took her hand between his, and squeezed it as he said, "Don't get yourself killed."

"I'll try not to."

"Hmph," was the only response she received, but her hand remained between his and his smile hadn't gone.

"Aren't you wondering why he was there?" she pressed.

"I am. And while there's no guarantee he will return… I think it far too likely. A quiet place out of the eyes of the wizarding media would be an ideal place for him to discuss plans with… associates. I think it's exactly the kind of place he _would _return to. Did you hear any of the conversation?" he asked.

"Just words here and there. I think they were talking about money." Snape frowned at her response.

"I would not have thought that Lucius would deign to have muggle business partners," he said thoughtfully.

"Maybe the war's over!" Hermione said brightly. "Maybe he's trying to rebuild the Malfoy family fortune and is in hiding!"

"Doubtful," Snape said. "Nice as that would be." He actually grinned at her then, startling an echoing grin from Hermione. He did look very different when he smiled, she mused.

"Wouldn't it? I bet something's prompted his sudden entrance into muggle territory, though. Could we subscribe to the _Prophet_, and at least see if anything's happened?" she asked.

"A subscription's a bit risky, since we're pretending to be muggles. If anyone was suspicious and decided to investigate, daily owls would be an instant giveaway."

"So would your potions lab on the patio," Hermione retorted, but then added, "You're right, of course. Well, could we make a side trip to Diagon Alley next time we go to London?"

"For my next muggle lesson?" he asked, amused. "I think that could be arranged. In fact, I think a special trip could be arranged. Perhaps tomorrow?"

"You just want to see the history museum you found in that brochure yesterday," she said teasingly, but nodded nonetheless. "If we can stop by the restaurant on the way to the station I'll find out when my next shift is and give notice at the same time. I forgot today, what with… events," she admitted.

"We can do that," Snape conceded, although he did not look happy. "In any case, we should probably both at least try to sleep tonight. I would hate to have you do something reckless from exhaustion." He leaned over and kissed her forehead, briefly. "Thank you for telling me about Lucius."

Touched by the gesture, and by his words, Hermione replied honestly, "I never considered not telling you. I won't play around with our lives. And I do value you… your opinion… you know. Good night." She reached forward and gave him another hug before disappearing up the stairs to bed. _He reacted to the hug much better this time_, she reflected as she climbed the steps to her room. _And that kiss was certainly a nice gesture. Maybe someday… _

Lost in her thoughts, Hermione did not see Snape standing in the doorway, pensively watching her as she climbed the stairs. He rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand, and stared at her door long after it had closed behind her, a worried frown on his face.


	30. Chapter Thirty

**A/N Please don't die of shock. I figured the least I could do was make you wait only one week for an update after the last wait of half a year. This chapter is also very long – over 2400 words, which I hope you appreciate. It's unbeta'd because I'm leaving the country tomorrow and I thought you'd rather have this now than whenever I next get a chance to check my email. I've tacked an FAQ onto the end… a bit egotistical of me, maybe, but some of it is questions that you've asked, some of it is questions that you'll want to ask after this chapter, and some of it's just stuff I want to say without putting it into this note. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this, and with luck my next update won't be too far off!**

"Tonight, love," Alice said when Hermione had finally tracked her down the next day and asked when her shift would be. "That is, if you're better after last night? You didn't look well."

"I'm much better," Hermione assured her. "This afternoon, then, same time as yesterday?"

"If you could do a later shift tonight, I'd be grateful. Could you start at eight?"

Hermione looked to Snape, who nodded in agreement, before she confirmed that she could indeed work the second shift. Hermione decided that she would wait until that evening to break the news that she was quitting so soon, so after a few pleasantries the pair left, Snape's posture rigid as it often was when he was with people he didn't know well.

"I think we should Apparate," he said in her ear, giving her goosebumps as his breath touched her neck and startling her out of her reverie. "If we only have a day in London it doesn't make sense to waste it on a long train ride."

"What about muggles?" Hermione asked.

"They won't notice if we're careful leaving, and we'll Apparate to a designated muggle-free zone." She opened her mouth again and, anticipating her question, Snape added, "The ministry won't know. Apparition under Fidelius _is_ frowned upon because it's untraceable but it's not, strictly speaking, illegal."

"If you say so, then. Where to?"

"Diagon Alley would be the best place to start, I believe. Are you familiar with the apparition point?"

"No," Hermione admitted. "Could you take me there?"

"Of course. Come here, then, and we'll leave."

Hermione stepped into his embrace and tried to relax and his arms wrapped themselves around her, pleased that she had managed to achieve even this much. She wondered, for a moment, where her recent desire for a more affectionate Snape had come from, but quickly lost the thought as they were suddenly, with a muted pop, in a corner of Diagon Alley to which Hermione had previously paid little attention.

"I'd forgotten how much better I like apparition than the train system," Hermione commented as she disentangled herself.

"It is infinitely preferable," Snape replied with an unreadable look in his eyes. "Now, I have a couple of potion ingredients to buy, and perhaps afterwards we can pay a visit to Flourish and Blotts?"

"I'm always happy to go to a bookshop," Hermione agreed with a grin. "I could easily lose myself for days." Snape's only reply was a thoughtful "hmm," as they made their way down the street. Everything seemed peaceful, normal, and Hermione felt herself relaxing as they entered the apothecary. Surely if anything major had happened the wizarding public would look more concerned. Hermione put her worries of the previous night to the back of her mind, and settled to investigating the contents of the various bins and boxes lining the shop's walls while Snape terrified the wizard behind the counter.

Half an hour later, once they were in the bookshop and Hermione had her nose deep in a book entitled _The Secrets of Fidelius_, Snape casually said, "I have a few errands to run; would you mind waiting her for an hour or two?"

"Errands?" Hermione asked absently, still firmly ensconced in her book.

"Look up a few acquaintances. I shouldn't be more than two hours."

"Old friends?" she murmured.

"Yes," he said carefully. Hermione's head snapped up.

"You thought you could lure me into a bookshop, try and distract me, and then go off spying without me?" she asked in a barely-restrained whisper. "You thought I would be so absorbed in my book I wouldn't even _notice _you going off and risking your life?"

"Ah," Snape said, looking uncomfortable. "I'd only…"

"No," Hermione said. Then, with a wistful look at her book she placed it carefully back on the bookshelf and, grasping his wrist, drew Snape back into a secluded corner of the shop.

"It really isn't anything important," Snape said persuasively, trying to forestall the lecture he could suddenly see looming in his immediate future. "I thought you would prefer…"

"No you didn't," Hermione interrupted, scowling at him. "You wanted to keep me safe here while you went off and risked your life for a bit of information. It's _dangerous_, Se – Alexander," she amended, remembering just in time that they were in public and not once again arguing over safety in their own living room.

"Which is why you should stay here," he replied. "You'd be far safer…"

"And I'd be a nervous wreck!" she retorted. Snape didn't seem to know quite how to reply to that. "Anyway," she added, "it would hardly be fair to me… what if you were discovered, and kidnapped or killed? You're all I've got, you know."

After a short pause Snape reluctantly said, "I suppose you have a point. But we do need to find out information."

"I know we do. So we'll buy a Daily Prophet today, go home and think of a suitable cover story, and we can do whatever spying you think necessary… together."

"Out of the question!" he told her, aghast. "There's absolutely no way I'd let you-"

"Well, let's talk about it later," Hermione said firmly. "For now let's buy a _Prophet _and have lunch. We can make a trip to the Natural History Museum afterwards, if you like – it will take our minds off all this, and you'd find it interesting."

"More muggle lessons. Very well, let's go."

Hermione was barely a hundred metres down the path that evening on the way to the restaurant when she saw Mike walking down the path to meet her. She slowed and stopped the bike, pulling up next to him.

"Hi Mike. What's up?" she asked.

"I just thought I'd come and see you. Are you going somewhere?"

"Yeah, my shift starts in twenty minutes."

"Your shift?" he asked, brow furrowed in confusion.

"I didn't tell you? I'm sorry… yeah, I'm a waitress."

"At that posh place? Is it any good?"

"Not bad," Hermione answered truthfully. "I have to get a move on, though. Why don't I give you a ride back to town, and we can meet up tomorrow to chat? I bought a mobile a couple of days ago, but I haven't set it up yet… I can give you my number tomorrow?"

"Sure! I'm glad you finally got a phone at last. And you know I'm always up for a bike ride!"

"I do," Hermione said, laughing a little. "Come on then, hop on."

They arranged to meet over lunch the following day, and Hermione went on to her job. The evening was fairly uneventful; Hermione spent most of it with an eye on the entrance, watching for Lucius Malfoy. She wasn't sure whether she was hoping that he would come, so she could find out why he had turned up the other night, or that he wouldn't. In any case, Hermione's shift ended without Malfoy's arrival. She approached Alice after her shift ended, and drew the older woman aside.

"Um, Alice, I spoke with my uncle today. He's considering accepting a job in, um, Durham, and says that we could move at a moment's notice. I hate to do this to you so soon after I've started, but I think it would be the most fair to you if I resigned."

Alice's face hardened. "You're quitting?" she asked evenly.

"Not immediately," Hermione assured her hastily. "I just don't think it would be fair of me to pick up and move, and give you so little notice. I'm happy to stay on until you find a replacement, I just wanted to let you know that my uncle might decide just to pick up and leave one day."

"I see," Alice said, sighing. "Thank you for telling me at least. You will still do daily shifts until I can find a replacement?"

"Of course!" Hermione said, feeling guilty. "I really am sorry."

Alice's face softened again. "Of course you are. And it's not your fault. Thank you for letting me know. Good night."

Hermione left the restaurant feeling guiltier still. When she saw Snape waiting by the bike, however, she completely forgot the feeling. He had obviously walked all the way into town to meet her, unless he'd been not-really-but-almost-illegally apparating again, and her face broke out into a grin.

"Are you okay?" he asked in concern. "Did… a certain person make an appearance?"

"I'm fine," she said, still smiling. "Nobody of interest showed up. And I told Alice I would quit as soon as she found a replacement."

Snape nodded in approval. Hermione suddenly felt tired.

"Shall we go?" she asked.

"Of course." Hermione gave Snape the keys and climbed onto the bike behind him, wrapping her arms around him. "Let's go home," she said.

They had a late dinner together, one that Snape had yet again cooked, and had put under a heating charm to keep warm. They discussed books over the meal, Hermione trying (and failing) to persuade Snape of the merits of murder mysteries.

"I have no intention of wasting my time on mindless drivel, Hermione!" he said flatly, after much argument.

"But they're _not _mindless drivel! They're entertaining, and it's fun to try to figure out who did it before it's revealed. Of course they're not up there on an intellectual level with all the great classics, but it's nice to relax, sometimes, and just… make an escape from the world."

"I'll leave you to do the escaping, then," he said dryly.

"One of these days I'll convince you," she said sternly, but the glimmer of a smile on her lips contradicted her tone. "Just be grateful it's not the merit of romance novels that I'm trying to show you."

"Ah, but romance novels have a great deal of merit," Snape returned, and then sat back with a smug smile to watch Hermione choke on the sip of wine she had just taken.

"You can't mean that!" she said once she had her breathing back under control.

"Of course not," Snape returned smoothly, "but it was most entertaining to watch you splutter."

Hermione reached over to smack his arm playfully, but he caught her hand before it made contact with his skin. "Really, Hermione," he told her reproachfully, "you must learn to control these violent tendencies of yours."

She blushed but said, "Well, perhaps you shouldn't provoke me!"

"Ah, but that would take all the fun from life."

They sat there a moment, looking at one another, before Snape abruptly let go of her hand. Hermione occupied her hands with her wineglass, staring at it intently and certain that she was still blushing. She could feel her heart beating in her chest, faster than normal. She ventured another look at him, and he was still gazing at her, an almost troubled expression on his face.

"We should probably talk about what we're going to do this week," Hermione said, meeting his eyes again and willing her blush to recede. "You were saying something this afternoon about wanting to see what you can find out from, ah, old associates."

"I seem to recall you weren't too keen on the idea," Snape said dryly.

"No," Hermione corrected him, "I wasn't too keen on you going _alone_. I want to be with you." Snape raised an eyebrow at this, and Hermione blushed. She hadn't meant it in _that _way. Apparently he was just teasing her, though, because he replied,

"I think that's a particularly bad idea too. It would be far too dangerous." He calmly sipped from his glass, and Hermione was suddenly struck by the peculiarity of the scene; a month ago, she would never have imagined herself persuading her Potions master to take her with him on a spying expedition over glasses of wine.

"It would be more dangerous for me if I'm not with you," Hermione told him.

"How so?" he asked calmly, and raised that infuriating eyebrow.

"If you go without me I'll be left here completely without protection. And what if you're caught? I'll have no idea where you are or where you've gone, and I won't be able to break the Fidelius. I'll be alone, defenceless, and friendless."

"So how do you propose I take you with me?" he asked calmly. Hermione had a feeling he was humouring her, but was determined to win this argument.

"How were you going to approach them?" she asked in turn.

Snape sipped again, a thoughtful expression on his face, before answering, "I had rather liked the idea of presenting myself as an Australian pureblood hoping to move to England and settle here. There was a Deatheater killed a few years ago. I could easily approach a number of people on his supposed recommendation."

"Well then, we can go with the same story slightly modified – your wife and her sister died of, oh, Dragon Pox, so you're bringing me, your niece, with you to England to start over."

Snape smirked. "One does not take one's niece to dinner parties, my dear."

The 'my dear' threw Hermione for a moment, but she decided he had said it to catch her off guard, and so said stubbornly after barely a pause, "Say I'm your wife, then."

Snape raised his eyebrow for the second time that evening, but chose not to reply.

"Well?" she demanded.

"I… it would be impossible."

"Why?" she prompted.

"Because you're twenty years younger than me!" he said.

"Well, you're playing the part of a rich pureblood – a twenty year gap with an older rich man isn't unsurprising even in the muggle world. Age gaps in the wizarding world are often bigger anyway – twenty's not that much of a difference."

"But you're only eighteen…" he protested.

"So say I'm twenty. Oh, in fact, I bet that would strengthen your story. Say we're just married – your wife died maybe a year ago, and you're moving to England to avoid the speculation because everyone in Australia thinks you killed her to marry me, the younger woman!"

"I… no." Snape said.

"Why not?" Hermione pressed.

"Because it's not safe." Hermione smiled smugly.

"I've already shown you that it's less safe for me to be here alone," she pointed out, and from that moment on she knew she'd won. Thirty minutes of argument later, Snape conceded the point too.

"There's just one thing," Hermione said much later, after they'd moved to the sitting room.

"Hmm?" Snape murmured.

"I bet your Australian accent is terrible."

--..--..--

**So, a couple of questions and answers below:**

**What's with the names?**

They've been calling each other "Professor Snape" and "Miss Granger" for as long as they've known each other. Hermione has asked him to call her by her first name in private, because nobody does and she's feeling a little lost. Depending on her mood (and Snape's mood!) she's begun thinking of him as "Severus;" she's said it a couple of times aloud, now, and she doesn't think he minds, so she's decided to call him that in private from now on. Then again, in public they have to call one another by their middle names. Previously they had considered doing that in private, too, but Hermione doesn't like the idea of losing her identity, so they cast that idea aside. Basically, they call each other different things depending on the situation and their state of mind. I hope it's not too confusing, but that's how it is.

**Why was Lucius in the restaurant?**

There are basically two reasons. Firstly, it's to do with the plot, and secondly, it lets me play with the characters a bit and explore new circumstances. That's all I'm giving you – I won't give it away!

**Are you seriously going with the clichéd pretending-to-be-married thing?**

Um, yes. Hopefully I'll avoid most of the clichés, but I see this as a way to further a few different goals. You'll have to read it to find out, of course, but I'm hoping you'll enjoy it. I know I'll enjoy writing it! I do like torturing my characters… which I'm sure you've guessed if you've read Adhesion.

**When will you update?**

I won't be able to write or access internet at all for the next two weeks. I should _hopefully _be able to do both for most of August, but it's not guaranteed and I can't promise that I'll have time. From September through February I should at least have occasional internet access, but I don't think I'll have much writing time. February onwards I'll be starting uni, so I'm assuming lots of internet access but little writing time, at least initially. So all of the above boils down to: I'll try, and it's theoretically possible, but I wouldn't advise holding your breath. Best case scenario it'll be a month, and worst case scenario, three. If something goes terribly wrong, it could even be as late as next July, but I promise you that won't happen unless I have a very good reason – like death or finger amputation.


	31. Chapter Thirty One

**A/N Only three months… okay, that's a long time, but to be fair I've been travelling in three different continents since then, moved to France, found myself a job, **and **started evening classes. So, all in all, it's not too bad. Things have settled down a bit now too, so hopefully there should be time to continue writing. I ought to be able to write at least one chapter a month from now until February, but again, no promises except that I'll try. I want to thank everyone for the lovely reviews – really, they mean a lot to me, and I'm glad you seem to like this. This particular chapter isn't quite as entertaining as future chapters promise to be, but it's very necessary. And now I'll leave you in peace. Thanks to Gem for betaing!**

_Chapter Thirty-One_

Hermione, as promised, met Mike for lunch the next day in a small café on a side street. He kissed her when they met, and held her hand until they reached a small table and were given menus. Hermione realised with dismay that she wished he hadn't done either, and wondered just when she'd stopped finding him attractive. She sighed. It would make what she was about to do easier, but she felt a pang of loss all the same.

"So how've you been?" she asked after a moment's silence.

"Fine. And you? You weren't at debate yesterday – I was worried."

Hermione frowned; she had completely forgotten about that. She suddenly realised that she couldn't be bothered anymore. The debating was a distraction, certainly, but Hermione thought she had rather enough on her plate as it was without adding an almost-daily commitment to the list. Snape had been right, she thought again, and sighed once more.

"Jane?" he asked, and Hermione realised that she had been lost in her thoughts for too long.

"I'm sorry. I was… I have to tell you something," she said abruptly. "My uncle's considering accepting a job in Durham. I don't know yet if we're going to move, but chances are we will. I don't know when yet, but when he accepts they'll want him to start immediately, so it could be a bit sudden." Mike looked crestfallen, and Hermione felt a surge of guilt. _It's better this way_, she told herself.

After a moment, Mike's countenance lifted, and he said hopefully, "You could stay here with me! I know you're homeschooled, but you could take your A levels at the school, I'm sure! And I know my parents won't mind, they're really pretty good about that thing, and you wouldn't have to worry about…" Hermione put her hand on his arm, and he trailed off. "It won't work out, will it?" he asked morosely.

"Probably not," she admitted, feeling pangs of guilt for the lies she was telling him. _At least it's kinder_, she rationalised, _than telling him that he's becoming a burden_. "I don't want to have to end this, but I don't think it could work."

Mike sighed. "It might," he persisted. "I'd… well, I'd wanted to give you this today." He coloured a little, and began fishing around in his pocked. Hermione began to feel the beginnings of suspicion, which turned into fully-fledged terror when he brought out a small jewellery box, just the size of… _Oh God, no! He _can't… _he couldn't possibly…_

"Here," he said, handing it to her. "Go on, open it."

With trembling fingers, Hermione did as she was told. Nestled in the fabric was a pair of small, heart-shaped gold earrings. A grin spread across Hermione's face, mostly from relief, but she felt the prickle of tears, too, from the unexpected sweetness of the gesture. His face was open, and it was easy to read the anxious look in his eyes.

"It's a gift. We've been… well, it's been a month… that is… well, I suppose it's a goodbye gift now."

Impulsively, Hermione reached over and kissed him. She still had tears in her eyes as she said, "Thank you. I love them."

"I'd hoped… that is to say…" he sighed. "You'd never guess I was into debating, would you?" he asked ruefully. "My mouth isn't working. I'm so desperately trying to avoid putting my foot in it that apparently it's given up."

Hermione laughed, a little watery, perhaps, but still amused. Maybe he wasn't attractive to her anymore, but he was nice, and sweet, and so very open that it made her heart break. He was oddly like Ron, she reflected, and felt another pang. She said, "You're not putting your foot in your mouth. And I know what you mean. It's hard this way… but I think it's easier to say goodbye properly, than string this along not knowing what will happen from one day to the next. We'll have good memories." She stopped herself, feeling guiltier still.

"You're right," he said. "Thank you. It's been… well, bloody wonderful. I'd probably better say goodbye now. I'm sure I'll see you again, but even so, I'll miss this." The unspoken words, _I'll miss you_, were plain.

"Me too," Hermione told him. Mike stood, and Hermione followed him. He kissed her cheek, and whispered one parting shot in her ear, "Goodbye, Huggsie-wuggsie." His remark had its desired effect, because she was laughing as he walked from the café. He looked over his shoulder, and then was gone. Hermione sank into a nearby chair, and put her head in her hands.

"Well," she said aloud. After a minute or so of staring into space she began to notice the pointed looks of the staff. She hadn't bought anything, she realised, and it was busy in the café. Reluctantly, Hermione stood and left, wandering through the streets of the town before heading towards the college. She couldn't just stop debating without telling Mr Jones, so she went in search of him, weaving her way through students enjoying their lunch break and hoping she wouldn't run into Mike. Jones, like Alice, was not particularly pleased with the news, but he accepted it with good grace and Hermione left feeling almost as bad as she had after speaking with Mike. Preoccupied, and not particularly watching where she was going, Hermione ran into Melissa on her way out, just as the bell rang, signalling the end of the lunch break.

"Jane! What're you doing here? Are you joining us?" Melissa asked hopefully, "Does this mean you won't be moving after all?"

"No, unfortunately," Hermione said, putting a smile on her face. "I actually came to quit the debate team. I don't want to let you down when I have to leave."

Melissa frowned. "You sure you can't stay?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

The other girl glanced at her watch, and her frown deepened. "I'm almost late for Chem, but… hey, are you free after school?"

"Um, yeah, I think so."

"Why don't you come over to my house then?"

Hermione opened her mouth to make excuses, and then thought, _Why not?_ With a smile, she said, "I'd like that." Melissa grinned back, and then hastily gave Hermione directions as a second bell rang.

"Now I _am_ late. Got to run… I'll see you later! Four-ish!" With that she continued on her way. Hermione smiled, and made her way out again. Back in town, she debated with herself whether or not to go home. Snape would be there, but she felt like being alone for the moment. Eventually she decided that it was about time to explore the library's magical selection, and half an hour later found her ensconced in books detailing ways to disguise and temporarily alter one's appearance. Humming happily to herself, she whiled away the time until four, wishing she had brought a pen and paper and instead doing her best to memorise the more useful of the charms and transfigurations she discovered.

Reluctantly she pried herself away from the books and made her way to meet Melissa. Hermione was only halfway up the garden path when the front door opened and Melissa stood there, smiling slightly.

"Good to see you!" she said. "I heard a rumour…"

Hermione let out a groan, only half in jest, and allowed herself to be ushered into Melissa's house. Sometimes, she decided, female friends were overrated.

Hermione collapsed on the sofa in her own living room later that night, and groaned. Snape, in his armchair, looked up from his book and smirked at her.

"Enjoyable day?" he asked.

"Sort of," Hermione said. "Work was fine… exhausting, as per normal, but there were no wizards that I recognised. And I've… extricated myself from a few things. No more debating. And I spoke to Melissa this evening; she's considering applying for my job. She'll want to talk to her parents about it, and she won't start until at least next Monday, but at least it's a possibility."

Snape nodded again. "I see," he said. "And… if we must leave…"

"Oh," Hermione added. "I may have forgotten to tell you. I've been putting it about that you're thinking of taking a job in Durham. I've said there's a professor sick and they're considering replacing him with you. I'm saying there's still some time, but when you decide you'll have to start immediately, so we could be gone at the drop of a hat."

"That sounds plausible," Snape agreed. "Your friends understand, then?"

"They do, sort of. They won't be surprised if we leave, anyway."

"And what of your _other _friend?" he asked, mouth tightening. Hermione frowned.

"Which friend?" she asked.

"The one who insists on calling you by that ridiculous name," Snape clarified.

"Oh," Hermione said, flushing a little. "I expect I'll be seeing rather less of him."

"Good." Was it her imagination, or did he look pleased? _Of course he looks pleased_, she told herself crossly, _Mike irritated him._

"Anyway," Hermione said, changing the topic and breaking away from her train of thought, "I spent some time in the library this afternoon, looking into ways of changing appearance without resorting to glamours. If we're to be talking with Malfoy and… others… I wouldn't want to take the risk that we'll be recognised after the Fidelius is removed."

"And what do you have against glamours?" Snape asked with a gleam of amusement in his eyes.

"Too easily detected," Hermione replied. "They don't look quite natural, and you have to keep reinforcing them every few hours. I was thinking we could perhaps use charms to do things bit by bit, similar to the muggle way – change eye colour, hair colour, hair type, skin tone, facial shape, you know. Mostly they last at least twenty-four hours, and although the initial casting can be a bit exhausting the spells to maintain the changes are generally quite easy. In fact…"

"Very well," Snape interrupted, the amused gleam still in residence. "I'll leave you in charge of appearance alterations." Hermione stuck her tongue out at him, and he sat up in surprise. "_What _did you just do?" he asked, mildly astonished. Hermione laughed.

She continued, "As to voice alterations, I didn't find much. I think playing around with vocal chords would be an incredibly stupid idea, so I was a bit stuck on that one for a while. I thought about it though, and if we're going to be speaking in some sort of accent then our voices will be different anyway. I'm not quite sure how we'll put on an effective Australian accent, though. I had an American friend a while ago who tried to mimic my accent, and it sounded terrible. And she _lived _here! A real Australian would be able to see through me in seconds. I looked in at least five different reference books, but…"

"Hermione," Snape said, interrupting again, this time unable to prevent a smile at the sight of Hermione-After-Research. "In this case, perhaps we could make a visit to the Weasley twins. I believe some of their… products… are capable of altering a person's accent."

"Really?" Hermione asked, surprised. "How do _you_ know what Fred and George are up to?"

"Aside from the fact that I confiscated a prototype from one of my second year students?" he asked, eyebrow raised. "It came up in an Order meeting as a way of gathering information while travelling without incurring suspicion. A _disguise_, Hermione."

Hermione restrained the urge to stick her tongue at him a second time. He was obviously finding some amusement at her expense. "Okay, fine. So, what do you think?"

Snape quickly sobered. "Disguises will be a necessity. We will have to reveal our identities to Professor Dumbledore at some point, which means removing the Fidelius at least temporarily. I too have done some… _research_," he said, smirking, "and found a rather interesting and useful coincidence. One pureblooded Simon Payne, spelled with a "y," was reported as having died not a week ago in a broomstick accident in Sydney with his wife of twenty years. There were no children from the marriage, she was an only child, and his brother is a Squib and works, I believe, with an insurance company in Melbourne."

Hermione nodded. "We can make that work for us. So what, his wife died, but he didn't. He didn't want to be blamed for killing her, didn't want to deal with the paperwork, and was having an affair at the time. So he runs from the scene, picks up his girlfriend, and comes to the UK where he can start over. Australia thinks he's dead, his friends and family aren't accusing him, and everyone's happy. There's even the possibility that he did murder his wife in order to be with the girlfriend. Sounds good to me!"

"A little overly dramatised," Snape said critically, "but Malfoy will love it. I'll draft a letter to him tonight, and we can find you a ring tomorrow."

"Yours too," Hermione said.

Snape scowled, "Men don't need to…" he began, but Hermione interrupted him.

"Any husband of _mine _will wear a wedding ring," she told him firmly. She looked at him evenly for a minute, and then started laughing. She could have sworn she heard a chuckle from Snape's direction, too, but second observation revealed him sitting there calmly.

"Ah, there may be some aspects of traditional pure-blooded culture with which you are unfamiliar," Snape said delicately after her laughter had subsided.

"Aspects?" Hermione asked.

"Small customs, mainly. However, you will have heard that a number of pureblood marriages are arranged, by custom although not enforced by law? Whether or not that is the case in any particular marriage, women generally tend to be the more… subservient… of the partners."

"Subservient. Okay. I can do that," Hermione replied. This time there was no doubt about it, Snape definitely chuckled.

"Really!" she protested.

"If you say so," he said doubtfully. "Well, you just need to play the part. There should not be any problems… look to me for guidance if you need it. In fact, look even if you don't. You want, of course, to play up the _doting_ wife image."

"You know," Hermione said suspiciously, "I think you might be enjoying this far too much."

"You're welcome to stay at home," he said smoothly. "It would relieve a great deal of the stress, after all, and you wouldn't need to act…"

"You're very optimistic if you think _that _will work," Hermione said tartly. "Okay, so I dote, I follow your lead, and I act like a proper little pureblood wife. Anything else?"

Snape shrugged. "Events will unfold as they will. I can think of nothing else at present."

"Okay then. I think I might go to bed, actually. Will you write to Lucius now?"

"I had planned on it."

"Right." Hermione decided not to ask to see it before he sent it; Snape, after all, had far more experience in these matters than she did. "Well, have fun with that. I'll see you in the morning."

Snape sent an appraising look her way, before bidding her goodnight. After a few moments he moved to the table, and, with a furrowed brow, began writing to Lucius Malfoy.


	32. Chapter Thirty Two

**A/N "One chapter a month"… okay, each of you who told me off is fully justified. I'm a useless and a terrible person. I'm afraid I hadn't anticipated my life being quite so busy, and, sadly, writing was the aspect of it that ended up sacrificed. This chapter isn't beta'd, but I hope you'll like it more than the last one in spite of that. Also, I'd like to acknowledge Adele Rose again, since her help a few chapters back isn't anywhere near finished with influencing this story's direction. There are a couple of things in here that are definitely more her idea than mine. Thank you.**

_Chapter Thirty-Two_

Hermione arrived downstairs the next morning to find the table already laid and Snape sitting in his usual place, sipping a mug of coffee with a pensive expression on his face. Hermione didn't need to ask what was bothering him – she could see a letter on the table next to his plate.

"Lucius replied _already_?" she asked in disbelief. "I thought at least a few days…"

"So did I," Snape replied grimly. "He is remarkably eager to meet me, disturbingly so."

"Any ideas as to why?" Hermione asked, settling herself at the table and buttering a piece of toast.

"A few," Snape replied grimly, automatically passing her the jam. "None of them pleasant. I don't see, however, how my letter would have made him suspicious."

"We're still going, then?" she asked.

"I could go alone…" Snape began half-heartedly, but stopped at Hermione's glare. "Yes," he said, still obviously unsettled. "I think the possible benefits greatly outweigh the danger of the situation."

"When are we going, then?" she asked, butterflies suddenly in her stomach.

"He _suggested_ we join him on Friday night." The emphasis confused Hermione, and at her perplexed look Snape explained, "Lucius rarely _suggests _anything. He generally demands or requests. Lucius likes to have the upper hand," Snape said dryly. "Granted, he expects an acceptance, but his flexibility on the issue is worrying."

Hermione frowned. "This is all inferred from the _wording _of his letter?" she asked sceptically.

"Yes."

Hermione nodded, still doubtful but willing to concede that Snape obviously knew what he was talking about. "Well, I'm working on Friday, but I'll see if I can get an early shift – hopefully Melissa will be willing to take over early, but I don't know about that. The earliest I'd be done would be eight, maybe?"

Snape frowned. "We will be expected by nine. If you can ready yourself quickly, there should be no problem."

Hermione shrugged. "We need to do the appearance alterations, but once we've done the groundwork on that it can be removed and re-applied pretty easily. Actually, I wouldn't mind doing a bit more research on that, if possible."

Snape made a coughing, choking sound, and hastily took another mouthful of coffee, finishing the cup. "Of course, Hermione," he said. She looked at him sceptically.

"Were you laughing at me?" she asked, leaning forward accusingly, putting her hands on her hips and an expression of mock outrage on her face.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he said, smirking, and leant forward himself to fill her cup before he did his own. He was close, all of a sudden, and Hermione felt herself holding her breath, her arms falling to her sides. He smiled at her, a real smile, and for a moment… but then he withdrew, filling his own cup, and seemed to be avoiding her eyes. She sighed a little, almost inaudibly, and went back to the process of eating her breakfast, wondering what, if anything, had just happened, and why her pulse seemed to have tripled its rate.

"Sit still!" Hermione snapped, exasperated. "Stop fidgeting!"

"Forgive me for being slightly uneasy when there's a _wand _not five centimetres from my face!" he snapped back.

"I'm not _planning_ on hexing you, but if you don't stop moving you could very well end up permanently disfigured!"

Snape shrugged, causing Hermione to frown again, and he said, "I doubt I'd see a difference."

It wasn't until after Hermione had blurted out "What do you mean?" that she realised it was perhaps not the most prudent question to ask. He replied blandly, however, seeming to not take offence, and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief.

"People rely too much on external appearances. Disguise relies heavily – too heavily – on the physical. If one can learn to see past the immediately apparent, one learns a great deal more."

"Legilimency?" Hermione asked, interested.

"In part. More important are mannerisms, actions, phrasing, and facial expressions. An observation of more than the strictly physical. I know what kind person I am, and any _disfigurations _will only help in presenting my persona to the world. They will not change my view of myself, or who I am." His tone, Hermione reflected, was both bitter and arrogant. It seemed to imply that he was above such petty things as others' opinions – and yet she could not ignore the touch of bitterness. "_Not,_" he added sharply, "that I want you to make any errors with your wand in my face."

"Don't worry," she replied calmly, "I'm always careful." Despite her bland answer to Snape's revelation, Hermione's mind was working overtime. _Interesting in more ways than one. And yet his self-confidence in his physical appearance is appallingly low. It's true he's not attractive by conventional standards, yet he has… something. _Deciding to ponder in depth later, and in private, Hermione returned her full attention to changing Snape's face. She would hate to make a mistake.

After Snape had finished his transformations of Hermione's face, he passed her a mirror, a smirk crossing the now-unfamiliar features of his face.

"I hope the _visage _of a snobby and spoilt pureblooded witch suits you. I suspect I could make it permanent if you so choose." His smirk widened. He was evidently quite pleased with his work, and Hermione smiled at him before turning to look in the mirror. And gasped.

When she'd regained her breath, and her sides were only mildly painful from the prolonged laughter, she said in response to Snape's pained look, "Really, it's a good job. Only it's a bit…" she giggled again, "a bit _too _like a snobby and spoilt pureblood we know."

Confusion crossed Snape's brow before rapidly dawning comprehension, followed by a flush of embarrassment.

"Perhaps you could change the hair and the chin shape a bit?" she suggested, finally gaining control of her amusement. "Make it a little less... well, Narcissa Malfoy?"

"Of course," he said shortly. Mentally, Hermione sighed. He really needed to take himself less seriously. It was actually quite funny… On a whim, Hermione voiced the thought to him.

"I do hope you find it so," was the curt reply.

"Really, Severus. Try to laugh at yourself occasionally. And it _was_ funny – I needed that laugh. I haven't laughed in a while."

His expression softened a little. "Perhaps you don't want to be _the_ epitome of snobbery and purebloodedness," he allowed with a small, fleeting smile.

"I'll settle for second best," Hermione agreed, pleased with herself. "Here, let me undo the alteration."

"So," she said when the silence between them was on the verge of becoming awkward, "I think we've prepared our back story as much as possible over the past few days. Anything else you think I should know about? Strange and bizarre pureblood customs? Secret handshakes?" She was only half joking.

Snape smirked. "Giving you that information would break the Unspoken Pureblood Code," he told her solemnly. "That, I cannot do."

"Oh really? And why, pray tell, would that be?" she asked, mimicking his tone.

"Because it is Unspoken."

"And a Code?"

"Indubitably."

Hermione couldn't look at his still-solemn face any longer without dissolving into giggles. She promptly did so, not without catching the gleam in his eye that suggested he had intended her reaction.

"Did you enjoy that?" she asked him archly after she had caught her breath.

"Immeasurably."

"Right, well, know we all know your affinity for five-syllable words beginning with 'I'…. Seriously, is there anything you think we haven't covered?"

Within seconds Snape serious again. "We have our background stories well covered. Pureblood etiquette is little different from upper class muggle etiquette, which we've also covered. Formality, even in a nominally informal gathering, will be expected. Assuming you know which knife and fork to use with which course, I don't anticipate a problem. Just be alert and ready to think quickly."

"I don't think I'll be relaxing much, somehow. Oh, and I didn't appreciate your cutlery dig, by the way. My parents brought me up properly, I'll have you know!"

"Oh really? I'll be sure to send them a thank you card." Apparently, his teasing mood was still there under the surface.

"Written in red ink with sarcastic comments in the margin and 'Needs improvement' in the place of a signature?"

"What else?"

"Horrible man!" Hermione said, pouting and pretending that she wasn't flirting. Definitely not. Not at all.

"I aim to please," he responded, grasping her fingers and kissing them briefly. Then he was leaving the room, saying over his shoulder, "Come, I need to see your dress robes." Hermione blinked, and followed him to her room. He was waiting for her at her door.

"You're not going in?" she asked him, still disconcerted.

"Your wards," he replied, and Hermione furrowed her brow in confusion. "You'll have to let me in," he clarified.

"Oh! No, that's already done."

"I beg your pardon? You took down the wards on your room?" Now he looked distinctly alarmed. "Hermione, it's not safe to-"

"I haven't taken them down," she interrupted him. "Just modified them. They'll only let the two of us in."

An odd look entered his eyes then. "Didn't you say that they were still experimental? I thought you hadn't yet determined the modifications that were needed."

Hermione shrugged. "I worked on it. It'll let you in." Again, that odd look in his eye, and again, for no apparent reason, her pulse tripled. Snape nodded abruptly, and walked into her room. She followed, a pace behind, and soon they were busy going through her wardrobe and determining which robes would be best suited for transfiguration into formal evening attire.

When Friday afternoon finally arrived, Hermione wasn't sure whether the time had inched by or flown. Her stomach was a mass of nerves, and no matter how many times she had rehearsed her story, practised removed and resetting the appearance charms, gone over her list of possible conversation starters, and generally prepared herself in every way possible for that evening, her hands refused to stop trembling.

"Ohh I don't want to go to work," she moaned to Snape as they stepped from the bike.

"This will be the last time," he reassured her. "Your friend is taking over next week, no?"

"Yes. But why _tonight_? There's so much I need to…"

"There's not," he said gently. "You're as prepared as you can be. Now you need to take your mind off this evening. Go. I'll pick you up when your shift is over."

"Okay. Thank you." She pecked his cheek quickly, grateful for his attempts at reassurance, ineffective as they were, and made her way distractedly into the restaurant. She didn't have time to look back; the second Hermione opened the door Alice whirled her into the back room.

"Oh thank goodness you're here! Alexandra didn't turn up! Only half the tables are set and our first reservation is due in ten minutes!"

In retrospect, the blurry busy few hours that followed were probably the best way Hermione could have spent her time before Lucius' dinner party. She barely had time to breathe, let alone worry, and her hands were moving dishes and taking orders so quickly that there was no opportunity for them to tremble. When she stumbled out of the restaurant, dazed, at five minutes before nine, she practically fell into Snape's arms.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concerned. "You look exhausted."

"Fine, fine. A few seconds of fresh air should do the trick." It did, too; fresh and icy cold, Hermione was feeling alert in no time, and traces of nerves were beginning to creep back into her stomach. Retrieving her wand, and quickly checking for muggles, she applied the appearance charms she would need for the evening.

"Did you bring my robes?" she asked, and before she could finish the question Snape had pressed them into her hands.

"Thank you. I'll just be a moment." Snape nodded, and Hermione realised suddenly that there was nowhere to change. She paused, uncertain, and Snape smiled slightly.

"Go into the alley we've used before and use an attention deflecting charm. I'll wait here."

She was back within moments, and Snape was pressing something small and hard into her hands. She looked up at him in confusion to find him clasping a necklace around her neck.

"Go on, put the earrings on," he urged. "We're late already." Silently and rapidly she did as she was told, barely taking time to glance at the studs that, in any case, the dim light barely revealed. Reminded by this, she slipped her hand into her pocket and withdrew the marriage band they had bought only yesterday. Placing it on the appropriate finger, she waited for Snape. He was, after all, a thousand times more experienced than her in what they were about to undertake. Tonight, if on no other, she would follow his lead completely.

"The shoes are fine," he said. "Leave your clothing by the bike and I'll Apparate both of us. Ready?" She stepped into his embrace once more and had barely taken time to enjoy it when they were in front of the gates of Malfoy Manor. Snape disentangled himself from her slightly, leaving his arm around her waist as they walked up the driveway. Hermione opened her mouth to ask about the charm to change their accents, and Snape murmured into her ear,

"I wonder if our new acquaintances will be surprised by our accents, love. I doubt they know that in Australia all respectable wizarding families have strictly British tutors for their children. Imagine their surprise to find that we don't have that vulgar _affectation_ that so many of those in the colonies acquire after only a few centuries of separation from Mother England."

Taking in the multiple layers of meaning in his words, Hermione nodded and squeezed his arm, wondering when in the last four hours he had changed the plan. "I'm looking forward to the English society. Do you really know nobody here?"

"As I have already said, _dear_," Snape said, "I knew only Walt." Hermione wondered fleetingly if the bite in his tone was real or put on for the audience Snape seemed to think they had, and felt a pang of hurt, before telling herself to stop being silly. She was playing a part just as he was, and she would not let any of his looks, words, or actions hurt her this evening because they _weren't real_.

"Such a shame about Walt," she said smoothly and without injecting too much sympathy into her voice. "And poor Desdemona."

"Yes," Snape said, and now there was a hint of amused affection in his voice, "otherwise you would have already had a circle of intimate acquaintances to rule over. You will like Narcissa Malfoy, I believe, my dear. From all accounts she is a woman much after your own heart." It was definitely odd to hear the little endearments coming so smoothly from his mouth. Hermione squashed her own personal reaction to it. _Think scheming socialite_, she told herself firmly.

"I look forward to making her acquaintance."

Snape squeezed her waist again, and then they were at the door, already being opened by a house elf. Snape smiled at Hermione, and, with a return smile for him and a lurch in her stomach, she stepped over the threshold and into Malfoy Manor.


	33. Chapter Thirty Three

**A/N I know you're all feeling murderous, and that I'm a terrible person for making you wait such a long time. Life does have a habit of taking over, though, and I honestly have barely had time to breathe these past few months. Here's the next instalment, and, while I can't promise updates as frequent as they were once upon a time, I'm not giving up on this. I hope you like it.**

_Chapter Thirty-Three_

Hermione thought that if she had to spend one more minute smiling politely at the conversation of these ill-concealed and overly perfumed harpies she would explode. Or scream. Or perhaps just continue sitting on the uncomfortable immaculate sofa drinking lukewarm and overly-sweet tea with a permanent and forced smile on her face. She sighed almost imperceptibly, knowing exactly which course of action she would need to pursue. Nevertheless, she was fairly certain that any more time spent listening to a debate on the merits of certain combinations of certain silks in certain designer dresses would drive her insane. Hoping her change of topic into more potentially useful ground would not be as obvious as she was afraid it would be, she said,

"And how frustrating it is to find that after so much deliberation and decision, one's husband cannot even tell the difference between an evening dress and a house dress!" Pleased to hear the anticipated titter of laughter and murmurs of agreement, Hermione continued, "Simon seems so interested in politics nowadays and the new dynamics of English society that he quite fails to realise my change in apparel!" Inwardly, she cringed. Was her comment too obvious? Too contrived? Hermione noticed the slight change in Narcissa's posture, and wondered where it would lead.

"Indeed," she other woman said coolly, taking subtle but iron-strong control of the conversation. "Politics dominate one's mind a great deal nowadays. Men don't seem to have the capacity to distance themselves as we do, but then, one cannot entirely object to their single-mindedness. Great progress is being made."

Hermione decided it would be in character of her to be very interested in the politics of this new country, and promptly pasted an inquisitive look on her face. Would Narcissa take the bait? The other woman certainly had something in mind, if her change in demeanour was anything to go by. She certainly seemed about to say something, but suddenly the sound of a gong rang out, and Narcissa's expression changed.

"I believe dinner is served," she said, addressing the women in general now and not speaking directly to Hermione. "Perhaps we should rejoin these ever-observant husbands of ours." Hermione politely joined in the murmur of laughter, and rose to follow the other wives. She felt distinctly out-of-place amongst this group of women. It did not help, of course, that she had been separated from Severus almost the moment she had entered the Malfoy residence, meaning that for the last hour she had been without his support.

The separation of the sexes was bizarre, she reflected, and completely outdated. A paranoid portion of her brain wondered if it wasn't done intentionally, so that their hosts could judge husband and wife individually. Hermione wondered what opinion Narcissa had formed of her; greedy gold-digger, perhaps, or infatuated trophy wife. She wasn't entirely sure which one would be better.

Hermione entered the dining room, and noticed with a grateful sigh that the women seemed to be rejoining their respective husbands. She startled slightly as Severus took her elbow, and shot him a grateful smile that was only partly for show; she didn't think she had ever been happier to see him. He smiled affectionately in return, and Hermione shivered slightly. _Focus!_ she admonished herself silently, and sat in the seat Severus held out for her. He placed himself to her right and, seeking her hand, gave it a reassuring squeeze before relinquishing it and busying himself with his napkin. Hermione placed her own on her lap too as, at the end of the table, Lucius clapped twice in quick succession. Immediately, the serving platters at the table's centre filled with food and Hermione felt a sudden and completely unexpected pang of homesickness for Hogwarts.

"Salad, dear?" Snape asked from her right, and Hermione realised that around the table all the men seemed to be serving their wives. She suppressed a smile, and replied with an affirmative "thank you, darling," that sent another little shiver running through her. What was wrong with her today? Conversation around the table was muted for a few minutes as food was served, but soon began to flow again.

"Marcus," Narcissa said pleasantly, addressing a man a few seats to Hermione's left, "Marissa tells me you've bought a holiday home in Monaco."

"We have. Far too many muggles in the summer months, you understand, but our private beach is quite satisfactory and Marissa tells me the magical designer boutiques are unparalleled. And what my lady wants, my lady gets." He smiled patronisingly at his wife, who simpered back. Hermione felt slightly nauseated.

Lucius chuckled, "That's always the way. Why, only last week…" and he started a poorly veiled my-wife's-more-spoilt-than-yours competition that lasted through the next three courses. Severus invented a designer diamond bracelet and a holiday in Fiji, but was content for the most part to listen with excellently-feigned interest. The wives smiled and blushed becomingly, or gazed adoringly at their husbands in a manner that Hermione found sickening. Only Narcissa Malfoy remained aloof, shooting approving glances at Lucius when he related the more extravagant of his indulgences, but for the most part seeming content to examine her guests, her face in a pleasant but unreadable expression. Hermione wondered what conclusions her hostess was drawing, and whether or not she had been taken in. She fervently hoped so.

After what was really an excellent meal, the party retired to a small drawing room. Drinks were poured, idle chitchat made, and Hermione felt herself unwind a fraction. She was by no means at ease, but the conversation seemed harmless for the moment and she was once again able to sit next to her "husband." Slowly, the other couples trickled off, until only a few remained. Hermione wondered if perhaps Severus was planning on being the last to leave in order to speak privately with Lucius. As the last remaining couple made their excuses and were shown to the door, Hermione's suspicions were confirmed.

"Simon," Lucius said affably as the Narcissa walked the last of the guests out, "you do drink port, do you not? I have a most remarkable bottle, a gift from a friend whose vineyard is simply unsurpassed. Would you care to join me in a glass?"

"Certainly," Severus replied readily.

"Madam Payne?" he enquired. Then, "or perhaps I may call you Jennifer?"

"Of course," Hermione said, "but I won't have any port, thank you. This evening's wine was more than enough for me!" Hermione was aiming for a young-and-inexperienced-with-alcohol impression, although immediately after having said it she realised that perhaps she was giving Lucius Malfoy too much power over her. Snape looked unperturbed, however.

Narcissa spoke from directly behind Hermione, and she realised that the woman must have returned from seeing off the other guests. "Oh, you poor dear," she said smoothly, "I had completely forgotten that you didn't come in a carriage like the others this evening. You must have apparated, and you certainly will not be able to return home tonight. The alcohol might cause you to splinch yourselves!" She seemed truly concerned, although the fleeting glance she shared with Lucius suggested to Hermione that Narcissa's solution to the problem had already been discussed previously, and probably at length. She guessed that the Malfoys had already known that the Paynes, newcomers to the country without even a permanent home, would not have a carriage.

"No," the woman continued smoothly, "you must both stay here tonight. We certainly have plenty of guests rooms, and we could not allow you to harm yourselves."

"Most definitely," Lucius added firmly.

"We would be delighted," Severus replied, and Hermione felt a jolt of fear go through her stomach. What was he playing at? Spend the _night _here?

Trying to contain her emotions, she managed, "We would, thank you."

"Excellent!" Narcissa exclaimed, smiling brightly. "I'll have a house elf show you to your rooms for the night, then. You must be tired, you can't even have accustomed yourselves to the time zone yet!"

"We generally breakfast at nine," Lucius informed them, rising from his chair. "Sleep well. If there is anything you need, please don't hesitate to ask the house-elf. Until tomorrow morning!" And with that he gave a shallow bow and, taking his wife's arm, left the room.

"If you will follow me, sir, madam," a squeaky voice piped up, "I is to show you to your bedroom."

Still marvelling at the sudden turn of events and departure of their hosts, Hermione stood motionless for a moment.

"Come, dear," Severus said gently, and followed Lucius' lead in taking her arm before pulling her gently alongside him, following the house elf. He slipped his arm around her waist as they followed the elf through to their room for the night. Hermione was grateful for the touch. It was warm, reassuring, and, as he made little circles against her waist with his thumb, maddeningly arousing. She tried not to think about the fact that they would probably share a bed that night, but of course once the thought had crossed her mind it wasn't easy to cast aside. They arrived at the door in the midst of Hermione's struggles to control her wayward thoughts, and she welcomed the distraction.

"Sir and Madam will find everything you is needing inside," the elf informed them. With a bow and a crack he was gone, leaving the pair alone.

"Well," Hermione said, "That was an interesting evening." Snape quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Indeed," he said blandly. Then, "Do you think you will come to enjoy living in England, darling?" Reinforcing the fact that they were still in the Malfoys' house and that the room was possibly bugged. _Not possibly_, she amended silently, _definitely. Malfoy paranoia and manipulation are legend._

"I think so. Narcissa seemed lovely, as did the other women. I'm sure we'll get along well." She realised how forced the bland comments probably sounded, and tried to change tactics. "Do you think there'll be a toothbrush in the bathroom?"

Sure enough, their hosts had provided a number of toiletries, and with the aid of a few charms Hermione prepared herself for bed. They had even provided sleepwear, although Hermione grimaced as she held up the silky contraption evidently intended for her to wear. She firmly tied the provided dressing gown on as well; no sense in being cold. _Or in exposing yourself any more to Severus_. She pushed the thought aside and came back into the outer room, finding Severus waiting patiently for her to finish in the bathroom.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "All done now." He smiled and went to perform his own bedtime ritual, leaving Hermione alone in the lavishly furnished guestroom. She paused for a moment, wondering what to do with herself, before deciding that she might as well get into bed. _With Severus_. The thought sent a thrill through her, one of simultaneous excitement and dread. _Stop being stupid_, she told herself firmly. _It's just a bed. A _big _bed. _She untied the dressing gown and crawled in. Surprisingly, she couldn't keep her eyes open. _Spell? _she wondered woozily, before decided that she was just exhausted after such a nerve-wracking evening, and succumbed to sleep.


	34. Chapter Thirty Four

**A/N I know I'm not getting any better at updating frequently, and I'm sorry for that. I do want to thank everyone for your reviews, because you really do inspire me to write (and at this point I think we can all agree that I need all the inspiration I can get!). A thousand thanks to Vesper XI for betaing this for me! I also want to thank Gem for having been a wonderful beta and putting up with me 'til now! Hope you all enjoy this chapter. **

_Chapter Thirty-Four_

Hermione awoke disoriented at first. The room was dark, and, as she stretched slightly, her arm brushed something warm and hairy. Something alive! She salt bolt-upright, heart pounding, before her brain caught up with the situation and she realised it was Severus, or "Simon," she supposed, and that she was at Malfoy manor. The pale light filtering in through the gap in the curtains suggested that the sun had only just risen; they wouldn't be expected downstairs for breakfast for a while at least. Cold, now that she'd sat up and removed the blankets, Hermione lay back down and rearranged the bedding on top of her. After a few moments, when she had everything to her satisfaction, she realised that Severus was awake, and watching her with considerable amusement.

"Do you have to fidget _quite _so much in bed?" he asked, a small smile playing on the edge of his mouth.

"Always," she responded with a matching smile, "and there's nothing you can do about it!" She wondered belatedly what devil had possessed her, and she was about to take back her words when he responded in kind.

"Oh, I'm not so sure about that…" his response was bland, and in the fraction of a second it took Hermione to realise that he planned some sort of retaliation he was on top of her, pinning her down with his lower body as he tickled her mercilessly.

After a few breathless, giggling seconds she managed to shove him off, although she thought that perhaps she wouldn't have had much success if he hadn't let her do so.

"You know, that just made me move about even more," she informed him with asperity.

"Ah, but surely the threat of its recurrence might make you reconsider fidgeting in future?" Was that a _playful_ glint in his eye?

Taking the risk, she murmured, "Hmm…"

Severus rolled over, much closer to her again, hands poised to start the tickling once more. _Suspicion confirmed! _Hermione grinned and pushed him back again, saying, "All right, all right, I concede, no more fidgeting!"

"Okay then," he said agreeably, lying back and closing his eyes. Leaving Hermione feeling oddly bereft.

_Focus!_ She told herself irritably. _Spy situation, Lucius _Malfoy's _home, and you're interested in flirtation with your ex-Potions Master-turned-co-spy. _Still, she supposed, at least that little interlude would have shown an affectionate relationship to any prying eyes. And, although she hoped there were none, she couldn't help but remember the look Severus had given her the previous night. The Malfoys were very interested in their new acquaintances, for reasons still unknown, and Hermione suspected that not even the overnight actions of a supposedly married couple would be above close scrutiny. No, Lucius would want to see how they interacted while they were alone. Was that why Severus had instigated it, then? _Stop trying to guess at his motives! It'll only drive you insane,_ she told herself firmly.

She felt her nerves mounting as she considered the morning to come. They would have to have breakfast with the Malfoys, at the very least, before they could go home. Last night had gone fairly well, but that was absolutely no guarantee for this morning. What if they were caught out at this late stage? There were so many "what ifs," so many things that could go wrong.

"Jennifer? Would you like to take the first shower?" Severus asked, interrupting her panicked thoughts.

"Thank you. I suppose we'll have to wear the same clothes as last night, won't we?" she asked.

Severus grimaced. "Unfortunately. I'll transfigure them into something a little more appropriate while you shower, if you like."

Hermione thanked him and went to shower, grateful again for the toiletries provided. _It's like staying in a five star hotel_, she reflected, _only you don't expect to be spied on in most hotels_. She wondered how much of the past nine or so hours had been observed by their hosts, and shivered. Were they watching her now? Hermione shut off the water and wrapped a towel around herself firmly. She didn't like the idea at all.

Emerging into the bedroom, she found that Severus had changed her dress robes from the evening before to more appropriate morning wear. He was nowhere in sight, however, which was distinctly odd, but she shrugged off her mounting concern and began to get dressed. She had only barely finished when the door to the room opened and he walked in.

"Breakfast will be in half an hour," he told her, eyeing the dress appreciatively.

"You did a good job of the transfiguration, didn't you?" Hermione asked him, smirking slightly.

"I… oh, yes. It suits you." Suitably flustered, he fled to the bathroom. Hermione's smirk turned itself into a grin, and, humming, she wondered over to the window to have a look at the famous Malfoy gardens.

At breakfast, Hermione's semi-relaxed mood of the early morning disappeared completely. She was back in the snake pit, and every question that their hosts asked could destroy them. She thought the couple seemed more at ease with Severus and herself than they had been the previous evening, but with such carefully created composure, who could tell what was really going on behind those sharp eyes? Lucius Malfoy and his wife were astute people, and Hermione was beginning to realise just how much strain Severus must have been under before his cover as a spy had been blown. _Imagine trying to fool these people, day in, day out_. She was glad it would all be over in a few hours, but she tried not to let the sentiment show on her face.

Breakfast was cleared, and Lucius, clearing his throat, stood up. "Perhaps you would care to join me in my study, Simon. I have some artefacts that might interest you."

Hermione felt a surge of adrenaline so strong she thought her heart would stop being. _Don't be stupid_, she told herself firmly. _There's nothing _you _can do. You'll probably be sent off to admire Narcissa's embroidery collection_.

Sure enough, Narcissa was watching Hermione closely. "Would you like to see the gardens, my dear? We have a number of plants that bloom only in winter. I'd be delighted to give you a quick tour."

Hermione's intellectual curiosity was piqued. If she couldn't go with her "husband," hopefully she'd be able to learn something useful from Narcissa, and any winter-blooming plants that the Malfoys had in their garden were sure to be rare, expensive, and very interesting.

"I'd love to," she replied, not untruthfully, and followed her hostess out into the garden.

After a deceptively benign hour or so wandering the Malfoy gardens, engaging in harmless chatter that revealed absolutely nothing, the women were just nearing the patio when Lucius and Severus emerged.

"There you are!" Lucius exclaimed jovially, sending the hairs on the back of Hermione's neck prickling. 'Jovial' was not a sentiment generally associated with the man.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Madam," Severus said formally, bowing slightly at their hostess.

The demurrals continued for a while, resulting in the decision that the Malfoys would be in touch soon and perhaps Jennifer and Simon would like to join them for another dinner? Hermione smiled pleasantly and spoke in all the right places, but the eagerness their hosts showed at meeting them again was ominous. Hermione remembered the Malfoys' prompt response to their initial owl, and wondered, not for the first time, why the family was so interested in them.

They finally managed to break away from their hosts and, Hermione grasped firmly in Severus' arms, apparated to safety. Hermione felt her legs go weak as they arrived in the cottage's little clearing, and she barely managed to make it to the sofa in living room before collapsing in a boneless heap. Snape, instead of taking his normal place in the armchair, sat next to her on the sofa, drawing her towards him and wrapping his arms around her. He said nothing for a few, long, moments.

At last, Hermione broke the silence. "I'm relieved that's over."

Snape chuckled at the understatement, and tightened his arms. "You did well."

"Did I really?" she asked, turning a little to look at him. He was close, closer than he had been even last night when they had shared a bed. "You don't think they suspected anything?"

He shrugged carelessly, but his eyes belied his concern and his arms tightened again in mute comfort. "They're always suspicious, but, I think, no more so than usual. I had a surprisingly frank conversation with Lucius in the study this morning. I had known there was an ulterior motive to his interest in us. I think I may have discovered part of the purpose of his clandestine meeting in your restaurant."

"Yes?" She turned to him fully now, breaking away from the comfort of being within the circle of his arms, but grabbing his hand and squeezing it at the last minute, reluctant to relinquish all contact and desperate to know what he had discovered.

"He's sounding out the political climate overseas. I think Lucius wishes to enlarge Voldemort's pool of supporters. At least in terms of resources and the recruitment of the darker magical creatures, but I believe he's also interested in recruiting some of the more… selective… of the overseas pureblood families."

Hermione nodded slowly. "He doesn't have an Australian contact, then? That's why he was so interested in us?"

"Mmhmm." He started rubbing her hand with his thumb, in a rhythmic, circular motion. "It seems we were lucky in our choice of disguise."

Hermione nodded, taking in the implications, and trying to ignore the very distracting movements of Severus's thumb.

"Do you know if he's had any success in moving parts of the operation overseas? Who was he meeting with that day when I was in the restaurant? How long has this been going on for? In fact, what-"

"Hermione," Severus interrupted.

She took a deep breathed, and blushed slightly. "Sorry, thinking aloud."

He laughed, a surprisingly warm chuckle. She looked up to see him smiling at her. She smiled back, abashed.

"I know," she said ruefully. "I get carried away. Really, though, what do you think is going on?"

"I think," he began carefully, "that this is all new. I'm not even entirely certain that it's Voldemort's idea. It may just be Lucius acting on his own initiative, hoping to gain favour with the Dark Lord if he succeeds, and hoping to conceal his endeavours if they're unsuccessful."

"So you think his meeting in the restaurant was just a preliminary meeting with foreign wizards?" She frowned.

"You said he looked tense and strained at the time. I think it's quite likely that he's afraid of competition in Voldemort's ranks, and is trying to ingratiate himself. Yes, I think preliminary meetings with overseas wizards is a likely explanation. I don't suppose you could tell their nationality?"

"They sounded English to me," she replied, shrugging.

"Mm, I suppose they would have done. Anything different about their looks? The way they dressed?"

Hermione giggled suddenly. "They looked a bit like the Men in Black, actually. Dark suits and dark glasses. But no, I think they were just wizards doing a better-than-average job of blending in with the muggles."

Snape didn't even bother to question her reference to the Men in Black, evidently deciding it was just another of her quirks. "They didn't look out of place, then?"

"Nope. All middle-aged white men dressed in business suits. If anything, their uniformity was a bit suspect. They were all very similar."

"All pureblood. Well, we'll be invited back to the Malfoy Manor at some point, I'm certain. I think one more meeting would be profitable. Then I'll reveal myself to Dumbledore, and see what he thinks."

Hermione nodded slowly. "You think this information is that important, then?" she asked.

"Yes, I do."

That was about that, then. Sighing, Hermione withdrew her hand from Snape's grasp and stood up.

"Feel like some lunch?" she asked lightly. "I think I might make a salad."

"Thanks. I think I'll get back to the lab, actually. Would you like to help me again this afternoon, or would you like an afternoon off? After all, I'd hate for you to petrify me again…" That playful glint was back in his eyes.

Hermione blushed a deep red. "You'll never let me forget that, will you?" she asked sharply. She realised suddenly that if he could joke about it then he had well and truly forgiven her. "I am sorry," she added. "It was childish."

He smiled at her, and Hermione realised that he had been doing that a lot recently. "It's forgiven," he told her gently, confirming Hermione's thoughts. "However…"

"Yes, I'd like that." She smiled once more and headed off to the kitchen. A relaxing afternoon in the potions lab would be good therapy after the stress of the morning.


	35. Chapter Thirty Five

**A/N Firstly, I can't tell you all how incredibly pleased I am that you're not only reading, reviewing, and (dare I hope?) enjoying my story, but that you've stuck by it despite my appallingly long breaks between chapters. The truth is that I simply don't have nearly as much free time as I did when I first started writing. I really am making an effort, although I realise that it probably doesn't seem that way. I appreciate each and every review – you make me smile, and giggle to myself, and I get all sorts of odd looks but I'm really happy you're enjoying the story, and each review makes me more determined not to abandon this. And I do promise I won't. This chapter is unbeta'd, I'm afraid, because I'm terribly impatient, but I shall re-upload when Vesper XI has worked her magic! For now, I hope you read, and enjoy!**

_Chapter Thirty-Five_

Hermione woke to the delicious knowledge that she had absolutely nothing she needed to do that day. No spying, no work, no debating, no muggle lessons… She lay back down with a blissful sigh and decided that it would be nice, just this once, to have a lie in. Just as she had made this decision, there was a knock at the door. Considering bloody murder, she grumpily made her way across the room but before she was halfway there the door burst open and a worried-looking Severus appeared in her room. His eyes were wide and his wand was out, but on catching sight of her he relaxed his stance and lowered his wand.

"I… I apologise, I thought something had happened." He looked awkward, and began a slow backwards shuffle out of her room.

"No, no, that's fine. Why'd you think something was wrong?"

He shrugged, still looking awkward. "You're usually up well before eight. It's nine now."

She smiled, touched by his concern. "Get lonely, did you?" she teased.

He bristled. "I apologise for bursting into your room." He turned and exited, and Hermione's heart sank. She followed him hurriedly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. Tea?"

He looked at her, taking her measure, then relaxed fractionally. "Tea would be nice."

She smiled at him and he nodded again, briskly, more to himself, she suspected, than to her. He followed her into the kitchen, and stood in the doorway as she busied herself making tea.

"How are you?" he asked, and caught her eye as she turned to lift an enquiring eyebrow at him. "You've picked that up from me," he added lightly.

"What?" she asked blankly.

"You picked _that _up from me too," he told her, his disapproving expression belied by the look in his eye. After a beat he clarified, "the eyebrow and the rudeness. I don't think it suits you."

"You're not rude!" she told him, ignoring everything else he had said. "Well, not often. Not… not always."

He laughed, and said mockingly, "You have such a way with words." She coloured slightly, and he repeated again, "How are you?"

"I'm fine. A little tired, I suppose. But fine."

He looked at her searchingly. "Are you sure? It has been a very… stressful… few days. I know we've discussed often enough whether or not you ought to be involved in this business, but I do want to make sure that it's not affecting you… that is, affecting you too badly. I… I'm sure the Order is managing well enough without us. They can continue to do so, if need be."

Hermione took a deep breath, then another. "I appreciate that you're concerned for me," she said carefully, "and I won't deny that it has been stressful. But Severus, I've had more than my fair share of stressful moments in the past. God knows, just being best friends with Harry and Ron is enough." She saw him tense at the mention of the boys, and she frowned. "Look, I've gotten myself into all sorts of trouble with them, and you know that. I'm obviously just a magnet for danger," she tried, with a small smile, and knew as soon as she had said it that the joke would fall flat. "Listen," she hurried on, "I don't… I've never felt safer, in a situation like yesterday's, than when I've had you with me. I trust you. I feel safe with you. And I don't want to want to back out of this. If we can find out what's going on, what Lucius is up to, we can give the Order valuable information. I… it's _my _fault that you had to stop spying, my fault that you're on the run with me, and at least this way I can make some kind of contribution."

He sighed, and moved closer to her. "It's not your fault," he told her, "not at all." He drew her closer, hugging her to his chest, and as she put her arms around him she realised she'd been crying. "I won't question you anymore. I just wanted to make sure that I'm not… not harming you any more than I already have."

"Than _you _already have?" she asked incredulously, drawing back enough that she could look into his eyes. "Are you serious?"

"I've hurt you before." He let go of her and stepped back himself. "I'm not a good man, Hermione. I know that."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Bollocks you're not. We did a pretty damn good job of hurting each other in the beginning. But we've been good for a while now. Friends?" She smiled up at him, and then moved forwards to hug him once more. He held her, smiling too.

"Yes," he said.

A couple of days passed comfortably, with no mention of the outside world or any new correspondence from Lucius. Hermione and Severus divided their time between reading in their living room-cum-library and brewing in their potions workshop outside.

Their relationship, Hermione considered, was a great deal more tactile now. There were the casual touches of friends, to be sure, but also something more… charged, she supposed. The situation was confusing. _Severus _was confusing. He seemed to genuinely care about her, and the transformation from just a few short months ago was absolutely stunning. Of course, her own feelings for him had turned upside-down too. The respect she had always felt for him was still there, of course, but the dislike for him that had always buried that respect was now gone. Instead was an understanding and a sense of comradeship and companionship that she had never felt with anyone before, not even Harry and Ron. She and Severus were friends, but it was more than that. She relied on him, depended on him. Needed him. Hermione had always been self-reliant, and this new development was scaring her not inconsiderably. Severus entered the sitting room, interrupting her musings.

"You know," he said casually, flopping down sideways in his armchair and causing Hermione to smile, "today is New Year's Eve, and we completely missed Christmas."

"Really?" she asked. "I can't believe time's flown by so quickly. I've lost track of the dates."

"Understandable, considering we don't even have a newspaper here. Anyway, I suspect Lucius will have another gathering on the second or the third; we don't know him quite well enough yet to be invited to the New Year's Eve party he invariably throws, but he will want to see us again soon. We'll probably get an invitation today, in fact."

Hermione nodded mutely, and Severus sighed. He leant forward, looking slightly awkward.

"The next week might be difficult. Would you like to go somewhere tonight?"

"Go somewhere?" she asked in confusion.

"Go out. Somewhere. To celebrate the holidays. Dinner, maybe. Another play? Opera? Anything, really, I just thought…" he stopped abruptly, leant back again, and raised his eyebrow in the gesture that Hermione had come to know so well. "Well?" he asked.

"I'd love to."

They ended up going for dinner in London. It was a small, posh, and fairly expensive restaurant. They talked of Potions and literature, and discussed muggle customs. The restaurant was intimate, and romantic, but Severus didn't seem to notice the surroundings and Hermione didn't comment. Because it was New Year's Eve they'd had to arrive early to be assured of a table, so it was still early evening when they left, talking animatedly as they strolled through mostly-deserted streets. As the evening wore on it became colder, and eventually Hermione's teeth were chattering so badly that she could barely continue their conversation. The streets were beginning to fill with people too, revellers looking forward to a drunken New Year's street party, so they decided to go to a hotel to while away the rest of the evening, perhaps playing cards. They picked up a bottle of champagne along the way to their usual hotel, and found that by the time they arrived there that it was already fully booked.

"That's what we get for leaving things to the last minute," Hermione grumbled, without any real ill-humour. "I suppose all the hotels in London will be full this time of night."

"The Langham might not be," Severus said, with a smile.

"Which?"

"Remember the first time we came to town? We ate in that Turkish restaurant and you told me that we couldn't go to the hotel on the corner because it was too expensive?"

"Oh, _that _hotel."

"Let's splurge," Severus suggested comfortably. "We can afford it. Probably. If not, a couple of memory charms will do the trick." Hermione gasped, and he hastily added "I'm joking, of course!" His denial wasn't particularly convincing, but Hermione didn't press the issue.

"Okay," she said impulsively. "Let's go!"

The Langham, as it turned out, did have some free rooms, however none had twin beds. But, as Severus reasonably pointed out, they had shared before. Hermione agreed, commenting just as reasonably that they were both adults and, really, there was hardly anything terrible about sharing a bed.

They spent a few minutes exploring the luxurious room, before settling cross-legged on the bed to play cards and drink champagne until midnight. Room-service was called at one point, and more champagne arrived, and by the time the clocks struck twelve and cheering started up on the streets below the pair were comfortably tipsy.

"You know," Hermione said, slurring only minimally and quite proud of herself, "I've never had anyone to kiss on New Year's." She thought she might have been leaning towards him, but with the room moving around her she wasn't entirely sure.

"I could fix that," Severus pointed out, slurring just as little as she (and equally proud of the fact). He proceeded to do so, which had been, of course, her intention.

Hermione awoke the next morning with a headache to rival the strongest of migraines. _What did I do to deserve this_? She thought, and even thinking hurt. She heard a groan to her right, and realised that Severus must have woken too.

"I know how you feel," she said, closing her eyes again. Severus stiffened beside her and then, wrapping a sheet around himself, stumbled into the bathroom.

"What?" she asked the room at large, "No good morning kiss?" Feeling sicker still, she decided to go back to sleep. With luck, the coming day would look better when she woke.


	36. Chapter Thirty Six

**A/N Well, I've finally managed to write another instalment!  I have quite a bit to say, but I'll leave it all for the author's note at the end of this chapter.  Happy reading!**

_Chapter Thirty-Six_

Hermione woke once more a little later in the morning.  She felt incredibly nauseated, and there was the hint of a headache pulsing at the back of her skull, ready to invade with full force if she moved too quickly.  Groaning, she shifted (slowly) to a more comfortable position, hoping that if she went back to sleep she'd wake up feeling better.  As she moved, her arm brushed her breast, and she realised with a jolt that there was no barrier of clothing in between.  The knowledge removed the last vestiges of sleep from her brain.  In fact, all she was wearing was a pair of knickers.  A pair of old, white, unattractive knickers with drooping elastic.  _Passion killers, _she thought, with rising hysteria.  _What the hell happened last night?_

She remembered drinking champagne, giving Severus a midnight kiss… then a rather enthusiastic removal of clothes.  At the memories, she groaned again, blushing furiously.  She'd been not a little forward last night.  There had been lots of touching, and exploring… _but no sex, thank god_.  Still, her actions would probably… _no, definitely… _create tension between herself and her current partner-in-exile.  _And not a pleasant sort of tension, either.  What have I done?_  She liked Severus, yes.  Respected him, was attracted to him.  But to force her attentions on him as she had last night!  What would happen if he regretted it?  If he didn't want anything further to do with her?  The friendly relationship that they'd spent so much time working on would be ruined.  Looking around her slowly, she realised that the bed next to her was empty.  She heard water running behind the closed bathroom door.  Hermione cautiously slipped out of bed, and went about finding her clothes.

Severus didn't come out of the bathroom for a full half hour, but when he did he was looking like his usual self.  He didn't say a word to her, however, merely going to the armchair near the window and gazing out across London. 

"Severus?" she asked tentatively. 

"You ought to shower.  It's check-out soon."  His voice was calm, even, and betrayed not a hint of emotion. He didn't turn from the apparently riveting view from the window. 

Hermione didn't reply, but simply headed off to the bathroom as suggested.  Her headache had, thankfully, disappeared, but a distinct sense of queasiness remained.  She needed something to eat, she reflected.  _Is this what a hangover feels like?  I thought the idea of food was supposed to make me feel even sicker?_  Having never reached the level of inebriation she had experienced the previous evening, she really didn't know.  She took her clothes off in front of the mirror, and was shocked to find love bites on her neck and left breast.  _At least he can't deny that he was a more-than-willing participant in last night's actions_, she thought bitterly.  His behaviour was worrying, and certainly didn't bode well.  She would like nothing more than a romantic relationship, but one night of hormonal groping was certainly not worth the expense of the easy camaraderie they had fallen into in the past few weeks.  She jumped into the shower with a strong sense of foreboding.  _Alcohol simply lessens inhibitions_, she told herself firmly.  _We didn't do anything we didn't already _want _to do._ 

She wasn't so sure of that when she emerged from the shower, however, to see Severus still staring out the window. 

"Last night," she said hesitantly, not quite sure what she wanted to say but knowing that they needed to talk.

"It's check-out time," he said toneless.  "We need to go."  He turned from the window to the door, without so much as glancing in her direction.

She felt something snap inside her.  "Running away from me isn't going to fix anything," she told him bluntly.

He did turn then, and caught her eyes for a few moments, looking at her with an unreadable expression.  "No?" he asked.  Then turned and left the hotel room.  Hermione sighed in frustration and followed him from the room.

They Apparated home in silence, forgoing the usual moral debate about Apparition over muggle transport.  Severus went straight to his room without saying a word or making eye contact.  After watching him disappear up the stairs, Hermione slowly made her way to the living room, sinking into the armchair for some serious thought. 

She knew she liked Severus.  She was beginning to rely more and more on the man, and genuinely enjoyed his company.  Hermione genuinely loved Harry and Ron, but were she forced to cohabit with them she knew that she would be driven to insanity before long.  The reverse was true with Severus.  Admittedly, they'd had problems at the beginning.  But the problems had been more to do with defining their roles and their relationship with one another, and once a friendly peace had emerged, they had begun to rely upon each other.  At least, Hermione knew she relied on him. 

The spying had only increased her attraction to him.  To be in such a dangerous situation with only one other person and trusting each other with their lives was a heady experience, and one that could not help but result in increasing closeness.  And last night… last night was a natural release of those feelings.  A physical expression of the comfort, desire, friendship, and closeness that the two shared.

Hermione pursed her lips, filled with self-doubt.  What if all these feelings were one-sided?  Severus was used to spying, thoroughly accustomed to difficult circumstances. Living in such close quarters with her wouldn't affect him in nearly the same way as it affected her.  What if, for him, last night had just been a reaction to the alcohol, a natural reaction that any man would have when faced with a half-naked girl willingly sharing his bed?

Hermione pinched herself, hard.  Her thoughts were going around in circles, and wouldn't solve anything.  She needed to speak to Severus.  They'd reached a level of intimacy where they _had _been able to discuss anything and everything together.  Surely the previous night hadn't destroyed that.  Yes, Severus would be awkward.  She would give him the afternoon to recover.  Cook a meal, perhaps.  Deciding that a walk would do her some good, Hermione left a note saying that she had gone to the supermarket, and went shopping for the evening meal.

On her return, laden with groceries, the house was still as silent as when she had left it, the note untouched.  Shrugging, and sighing deeply, Hermione set about preparing the evening meal.  It was perhaps a little early for dinner, but neither of them had eaten breakfast or lunch (at least, as far as she knew), and Hermione had always found cooking soothing.

She opened a bottle of red wine to go with the meal, and decided a fortifying sip or two wouldn't go amiss before she called Severus to dinner.  This was how he found her, a few minutes later, slowly sipping from her glass and staring out the window at the sinking sun.

"Turning to alcoholism after the events of last night?" he asked, but without any real bite.  She spun, relieved that he had come of his own accord, and pleased that he was making jokes.  Well, hoping that he was making jokes.

"Oh yes, you'll have to book me into AA," she replied lightly, smiling to show that she, too, was joking.  "I've made dinner.  Will you join me?"

He inclined his head, and she took the steaming casserole from the oven and into the dining room.  Severus followed, and when she turned she saw that he had brought the bottle of wine and two glasses. 

"I received an owl from Lucius while you were out this afternoon," Severus told her.  "He wishes for us to join him for a more intimate dinner party three days from now.  I have not yet replied, but I have drafted an acceptance if you would care to read it." 

He passed her a folded piece of parchment, which she opened and read.  "It looks good.  I think I'll be more comfortable now I know what to expect."

He nodded sharply, and took the parchment from her, careful not to brush her fingers.  Hermione sighed softly. 

"The casserole is good," Severus remarked.

"Thank you," she replied flatly. 

He looked up, eyebrow raised.  "You doubt my sincerity?"

Hermione exploded.  "So we're down to inanities now, is that it?  Small talk for the next three months until you get over your embarrassment from last night?  'I wrote a letter, what do you think?' 'Dinner tastes good.'  'I hear it's going to rain tomorrow.'  For God's sake, Severus, talk to me!"

"What would you have me say?" he asked softly, swirling his untouched wine, staring at the refractions of the light through the glass.  "That I regret taking advantage of you?  That I cannot face myself in the mirror?  That I truly regret drinking so much that I no longer had control over my desires?  I did not mean to hurt you, Hermione." 

His speech dampened her anger, and she felt equal mixtures of relief and exasperation.  "Severus, the alcohol didn't _make _us do anything.  I've wanted to… to be with you for a while now.  I certainly don't think you've taken advantage of me.  And I'm pretty sure I invited you to… do the things we did.  I'll understand if you don't want to pursue anything with me.  I realise that I'm young, and inexperienced, and that you probably don't want me in that way.  I don't regret last night at all.  But if you want to forget it, then I won't bring it up again."

There was silence for a few, interminably long, seconds.  Abruptly, Hermione stood, and walked briskly to the kitchen.  She fumbled with the cupboard door, took out a glass, and began filling it with water.  Her hands trembled, and she realised her sight was blurry with tears.  She took a deep breath, which quickly turned into a gasp and she felt a warm body behind her and arms snaking around her waist.

"I'm sorry," he said, into her ear.  "I should have spoken to you earlier.  I should not have run away this morning.  I want you very much, and I have no intention of forgetting what happened last night."

A sob turned into a hiccup, and Hermione realised that she was crying.  She turned in his arms and beat his chest lightly with her fists. 

"You could bloody well have been that plain in bed this morning."  She hiccupped again, and buried her head in his chest. 

He hesitantly brought a hand to the back of her head, and then began stroking her hair. 

"I have little experience in these matters," he said softly. 

She withdrew a little, enough to look him in the eyes as she retorted, "And neither do I!" before pulling him closer still.  He held her for a few moments longer, then disengaged.

"Will you kiss me again?" he asked, a small smile playing on his lips.

"You're not supposed to ask that question!" she told him, wiping the tears from her eyes at last. 

"Why not?"

Mortified, Hermione realised that she was blushing.  "Because… because you just don't.  You're supposed to just kiss me."

Slowly, his smile turned into a smirk.  "You're shy!" he said.  "After all that happened last night, you're shy!"

"Don't you mock me," she said warningly, colour mounting even more in her cheeks. 

"I wouldn't dream of it," he told her smugly, and then pulled her up for a kiss. 

"You know," he said, pulling back ever-so-slightly and murmuring against her lips, "we have an entire day to catch up on."

Hermione could not agree more.

**A/N So there's one more!  Many apologies for the emotional mess that this chapter has been, but I'm defending myself on the basis that when something like this happens, I don't think either of my characters would be able to focus on anything other than The Events of The Previous Night.  More "real" plot will emerge in the next few chapters, I promise you, and Lucius will be making an appearance again soon!   I'm very pleased with the reviews from the last chapter, thank you all so much!  I apologise to those of you who think this is all too much, too soon, but I think that there has been tension coming to a head between the two for quite a while, and that the timing was right.  It won't all be smooth sailing (how could it be?), but it'll certainly be an interesting journey.  **

**On a different note, I want to thank Vesper XI for having betaed the last couple of chapters!  She's retiring from this fic, but I appreciate all the help she's given me.  Thank you!  If anyone would be interested in betaing for me, and has any previous experience, please let me know!**


	37. Chapter Thirty Seven

**A/N Hi everyone, I'm back again. Lots of emotion and discussion here once more, but keep an eye out for an action-packed next chapter! I won't say "coming soon," because I've been notoriously bad at keeping those sorts of promises, but it **will **be coming! Hope you enjoy this chapter, and thank you so much to those of you have been reviewing, you absolutely make my day!**

_Chapter Thirty-Seven_

They made their way upstairs, and at Severus's inquiring eyebrow Hermione led him into her room, deciding that she wanted the reassurance of familiarity for what was to come. They lay on the bed, and spent a moment just looking at each other. Severus moved closer, snaking one arm under her neck and placing another on her waist, under her jumper, making small, maddening circles with his fingertips on bare skin.

"I'm not having sex with you," Hermione blurted out. She flinched, not having intended to phrase the thought quite so bluntly. She could feel heat rising in her face, and could imagine how red it was becoming. Severus chuckled, and pulled her closer, moving his hand up her back as he drew her in for a tight embrace. He withdrew after a moment and regarded her with a small smile playing on his lips, looking the most relaxed she had seen him in a long time.

"I'm not having sex with _you_," he told her, still smiling.

"Oh," she said inanely, still flustered. "Well, good." At this, he burst out laughing. Hermione drew back, irrationally hurt.

"It's not that I don't want to have sex with you," she told him firmly, her face still flushing, "it's just that it's too soon and I'm not ready and you're older and I really don't know what I'm doing and I'm not sure what'll happen and the idea…"

He silenced her with a kiss, and she responded, for a moment, before withdrawing.

"I want to take things slowly," he told her, before she could speak. "I have no intention of rushing into anything with you, and I want to make certain than neither of us has regrets. No recriminations."

She sighed. "Good. So now what?"

***

She awoke the next morning still fully clothed. Severus had pulled away during the night, and was sleeping peacefully beside her. She stretched languidly, and then moved to place her lips on his. She kissed him once, then twice, and on the third his eyes opened, the hint of a smile playing around their sleep-filled edges.

"I could become used to waking like this," he warned her, before moving towards her, deepening the kiss. His hands had found their way under her jumper again, and were once more playing up and down her back. He withdrew, and smiled. She didn't think she had ever seen him smile as much as he had in the previous twelve hours.

"Good morning," she said.

"Good morning to you, too. How does breakfast in bed sound?"

"Sounds good, so long as you're making it and I'm staying in bed!" she replied with a grin.

He chuckled once more, and nodded his acquiescence. "I'll be back in moment," he promised, and disappeared off to the kitchen. Hermione lay back, stretched, and sighed, a silly smile quickly plastering itself across her face.

True to his word, Severus returned within five minutes, carrying a tray filled with toast, juice, and an assortment of jams. "Magic," he replied, in response to her enquiring look, and proceeded to join her for breakfast in bed.

"So what now?" she asked, licking a drop of jam from her fingers; a show of poor table manners that would have made her parents groan in exasperation. But, she figured, table manners were for tables, not beds.

"Well, traditionally we get out of bed, shower, dress, and be about our day. Of course, if you have other plans…" he smirked at her, and didn't bother to shift out of the way as she half-heartedly smacked him with the back of her hand.

"I don't mean this morning, as you well know."

His face sobered. "We'll go to Lucius's dinner party the day after tomorrow. Then we'll go to Dumbledore as we discussed, fill him in on the international dimension of Voldemort's plans. He can tell us more about the Order's situation, and we'll go from there."

Hermione sighed, and burrowed her face in Severus's shoulder.

"You know," she said, her voice muffled, "I wish this were all over. This war feels like it's been going on forever. And we've been so removed from it all."

Hermione could feel Severus's sigh. "I know. Maybe our information will bring an end to it all, finally."

"You know what I'd really like? To wake up tomorrow morning, check the Prophet, and find out that it's all over, that it's finally finished."

"Well," Severus said slowly, "that was Dumbledore's plan. That we hide out here until it's all over. And we can still do that, if you want. Just wait out the end of the war."

"It would be sort of nice, wouldn't it? Getting on with our life here. Reading. Researching." She sighed and moved in closer, tucking her head more firmly into his shoulder. "It would drive me crazy, wouldn't it? And you too, at that."

"Probably," he agreed. "Come on, let's get on with the day. We probably need to discuss Jennifer and Simon some more. And whether I agree to help Lucius with my 'contacts.' I don't have any, of course. Perhaps Dumbledore would help with that…" he mused.

***

As they wandered into the potions lab that afternoon, Hermione asked, "So what _are _you working on in here? Any chance you'll tell me now?"

He laughed. "I could have told you before, it wasn't an issue of trust. I enjoyed how irritated you so clearly were with not knowing!"

"Wow, thanks," she said, sticking out her tongue. He made a grab for it, and missed.

"I'll catch it, one of these days, and then what will you do?"

"Thpeak like thith," she told him glibly. "So what _is _it?"

"Maybe I should just keep you in the dark," he mused, and winced exaggeratedly when she elbowed him in the ribs. "Just a variant on certain empowering potions. Most of the current potions allow you to increase your power temporarily by borrowing on your core magic… so you're left magically drained, sometimes even incapacitated, for days afterwards."

"Yes, yes," Hermione said impatiently, "do you mean you could create an empowerment variation that wouldn't leave you drained?"

"That's the general idea. Of course, you need certain amplifying agents-"

"-which could cause you to explode into tiny pieces," Hermione finished, a gleam in her eyes. "And you didn't tell me this before?" Her voice suddenly had an angry quality.

"Well, we weren't really friends before. And my research is a very private thing," he defended himself. "And then, well… we've been preoccupied. Secrecy is a force of habit."

Hermione took a few deep calming breaths. "You had me _chopping ingredients_." She felt her temper flare up, and took a few more deep breaths. Severus eyed her, somewhat nervously.

"I'm okay. Furious." She glared at him. "But okay. I suppose we haven't really been close all that long."

Severus opened his mouth, but at her look, closed it again.

"You'd better not keep anything this exciting from me again. Understand?"

"Yes, dear," he said, with quiet sarcasm. She glared again, but then couldn't help but let the anger slip away with the knowledge that she would be working on a project of such complexity and importance. She broke into a grin, and Severus breathed a silent sigh of relief.

***

The following few days were largely spent in the potions lab, debating potions modifications and possible solutions to the problem. Hermione might have been the brightest and most knowledgeable witch of her age, but Severus had a twenty year advantage that Hermione did not. She did, however, bring fresh ideas to the project, and even without the sheer quantity of knowledge that he possessed, her ideas, while relatively simple, were often some that he had overlooked.

In their excitement – Hermione's at having a fascinating new challenge in front of her, and Severus's in having somebody appreciate his work so much – they let Lucius and their upcoming meeting fall to the back of their minds, only really discussing it after dinner in the evenings, sitting in front of the fire snuggling on the couch with a glass of wine (which had quickly become an evening ritual). They prepared greater depth and fluency in their fictional backgrounds, trying to cover any eventuality so that they wouldn't be caught out if they were asked questions when separated.

Hermione also charmed an additional couple of features into their wedding rings so that, with a subtle tap by one's wand, the other would burn fiery-hot for a brief moment to indicate that they needed to escape the Malfoys as soon as possible. This was only to be used in the worst-case scenario, Severus assured her. The rings would also flash icy cold in a less extreme case, to advise the other to tread carefully. Hermione had decided that this could be useful, especially in conversation where they would both be present, and she likely to be caught out on some pureblood custom or other.

So the evening of the dinner party arrived, and this time Hermione didn't have the prospect of work to distract her from the upcoming dinner. Three times she came so close to ruining a buffering potion she was brewing to test the reaction of two unlikely ingredients that Severus had to stop her from destroying their lab, and eventually he called an end to their work for the day and brought her back to the living room, joining her on the couch and taking her into his arms.

"What's going on?" he asked gently, real concern in his voice. "You were absolutely fine last time. You carried it off with such poise and focus!"

"I'm sure I will when I get there," she murmured absentmindedly, staring into the flames. "The adrenaline will kick in." Pulling her attention away from the fire and towards him, she said, "it's just that there's so much that could go wrong, so many things that I could do that could ruin it for both of us!"

"But you did perfectly well last time!" he pointed out reasonably.

"I know that! I _do _know that! But what if I don't this time?"

"But you will. It will all go smoothly."

"You can't know that!" she exploded. "What if I mess it up?"

"What if the world explodes tomorrow? What if the muggles destroy the world with their wars and nuclear bombs? What if magic disappears overnight? Stop worrying. You'll be fine." He began a light massage of one of her shoulders, and she turned to let him do it properly. After a moment, she turned back to him, smirking.

"You're not very good at that, you know."

"At distracting you?" he asked, sounding a little wounded.

"Oh no, great distraction. But you're not so good at the massaging. I think you might have given me a bruise."

He glared at her. "It's not exactly something I've had a lot of practice with."

Hermione giggled. "I'm sorry," she said, a small smile playing on her lips. "I didn't mean to offend you. Feel free to practise on me as much as you'd like."

He pretended to consider. "I don't know. I think the problem is the bulky sweater. Definitely difficult to massage through."

"You'd do better if I wasn't wearing it?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Mm, I think so. Better take off your shirt, too, just in case."

Much laughter and massage-learning followed, and Hermione found herself quite distracted. Which had, after all, been the goal.


End file.
